Solastalgia: Documenting disaster through interactive documentaryMain MenuHomeFire SeriesWater Series(Meta)reflectionsNavigation:A snapshot of the content of this project that can be used to navigate in a non-linear fashionBibliographyAbout the authorsThanksmonique tschofen TMUa6f08a24bf34f58cae1b84d81d2df391582b801fJolene Armstrong8d77d69c06e0564ab85f8d6d9cb65116c99ff272 Monique Tschofen and Jolene Armstrong
What does a stone sound like
12025-05-05T21:14:50+00:00Jolene Armstrong8d77d69c06e0564ab85f8d6d9cb65116c99ff272151a contact mic recording of a stonethis is a contact mic recording of a stone. the sounds are soft, slow, low ticking and clicking soundsplain2025-05-05T21:14:50+00:0050.81678128686719, -0.1376161167624949Jolene Armstrong8d77d69c06e0564ab85f8d6d9cb65116c99ff272
The Stones I empty my pockets of stones I collected at the beach, Brighton beach In the rolling fog and brilliant breaks of late March sun I have never seen so many stones I dig my hands into the smooth mass Alternately warm and cool As some rocks hold heat And others are the cool emptiness of centuries and I can not find the bottom where stones end and sand begins but I feel water and it tells me the water line is much higher than what we can see as the shore I spot one with a hole worn clear through A hag stone I take it up in my fist Holding it, discerning what magic it holds, I peer through the hole out across the English channel and I imagine I am looking back through time I slip it into my pocket In the distance, the venerable old pier With her lights and gaudy colours The arcade beckons with its games of chance And ultimately disappointment As the incessant ringing of machines and bells The modern carney’s bark All designed to relieve me of my money And leave me at once exhilarated and empty And as I exit, I slip my hand into the pocket Where the stone assures me with the warmth absorbed over a millennia of English summers It remains The stones remain.
