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start of the day

*durbahn
in the very early morning
the birds sing …
i think: carefree
but what do I know
in the early morning

Ann Noel
The Sunday bells of Vater-Unser-Kirche Berlin (Our Father Church), recorded on May 17 at 10 am.  The church bells in the tower across the street measure out my days. During the week they peal at midday and six in the evening. On Sunday all three bells are set in motion to summon the congregation. This 2-minute recording is to warn people it’s time to go there. At 10:30 it peals for 4 minutes. At all other times the din continues for 5 minutes.

Varsha Nair
just before night turns to day
waking up from deep sleep
this chanting infuses the landscape  the mind….

Reiko Aoyagi
Sometimes the moon and stars can still be seen at dawn. I tried to capture and feel the vibrations of those lights by playing a singing bowl.

Lawan Jirasuradej
When I wake up I open my space to the world from the window to the balcony door. Both window and door have different blinds giving unique sounds when pulling up while a wooden wind chime is hung by the window for me to play. The balcony is surrounded by large construction preparation camps next to the river.

Hannah Beilharz
Inspired by hearing a blackbird singing in early January – knowing that it is too early for blackbirds to be singing – for me there is an eerie sense of unease created by the false spring and ecological impacts of climate crisis, it is another sign of the natural systems around us becoming more and more out of balance. This sound piece explores sound as warning, songs as forms of protest, as well as memory and refuge.

Judy Freya Sibayan
Start of the week, start of the day, attending to my meds, popping the pills out of their packaging and into my seven-day pillbox…

Phaptawan Suwannakudt
My next door neighbour is renovating their house. The builders start their day with hammering at 7 am. My ducks, Betty and Winnie, feeding in the yard, a flock of pigeons trying to steal their food, flapping their wings when chased, and an airplane, or was it a helicopter going past? I didn’t notice. This was how it sounded at the start of this normal day at my house in Dulwich Hill. 
Nitaya Ueareeworakul  Life begins anew every day. It seems so banal and monotonous, but when I gather myself some beauty always appears. In every present moment.

Alana Hunt
I wake early. I try to. Starting the day with exercise, usually yoga. Or at least, I try to. My son—waking—usually asks me to get his school uniform ready. I recorded this sound at my window. It opens into a canopy of trees on Gadigal Country, on a quiet street one block away from the throng of Sydney CBD traffic.

Virginia Hilyard
I recorded below the surface of the sea pool on my morning swim, a deep sonorous bubble and surge of the tidal wash with tiny cracks and snaps of pistol shrimp. Listening to the underwater sounds brings to awareness the hellish impact of industrial shipping, fishing, and drilling on those that inhabit this acoustic environment. 
Daniela Ardiri
I opened the window, the air was still, everything was covered in white, a passer-by was humming in step with snow.

Sue Pedly
The sounds are recorded at daybreak in my garden on the last three days of summer. 
Karla Sachse
Waking up early after a lightweight night in the garden house and waiting for rain since weeks I listen to the soft sound on the terrace roof joyfully.

Rashmimala
This is a collage of sounds on a summer morning, the everyday mundanity of a seashore town in southern part of India, away from my regular hometown morning tunes. It ends with a conversation with a vegetable vendor with whom I spoke about an edible plant that she was selling. I had just spent weeks learning all about those rural plants at an Ecology Research Lab.

Lena Eriksson
My sound file captures the squeaking of a felt-tip pen. By designing and colouring patterns, it helps to create order in my mind and distinguish between inner and outer restlessness. 

Helen Grace
Goodwood Station morning symphony on the way to the Writers Festival: school children en masse, birdsong, a long goods train rumbling through.