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In the last years, I have been doing intimate vocal and sound improvisations with my computer in my house, usually in my room.All the windows face the building's common air-light space.Every sound that comes from outside, bounces so loudly that I feel it is being produced by someone sited next to me. On the fourth floor, a renovation has been being made for more than six months. A mixture of background radio playing national rock songs, walls being drilled, and waves of laughters.Now, a demoniac scream comes from the first floor. They are seven. Children and floors. A baby cries while his brother complains that his sister is hiding something in his hands and she doesn’t want to show it.
In the background, I can hear the constant rhythm of my washing machine. One of the children coughs and mingles with the cry of another. Akghu Akguku AAAAAA Duahaaa. In the back of my head, a door opens with a rather sharp sound at the same time that some glass jars are being drawn gradually. For a moment, I close my eyes and feel the vibration of a vacuum cleaner on the fifth floor. The children fighting in the background, the laughter, the screams, the electric drill, the hammering, the cry of a baby, and my voice are flowing in the compositions with my computer as a silent listener.


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