In 2020, Nuremberg, Songlines Festival
Wednesday. I sit in the Hauptmarkt with a freshly made falafel not able to connect with what I am seeing.  A few people amongst quaintly styled stalls, everyone moving slowly and apart. It’s also very quiet and it’s lunchtime. Trying to engage with a place and not be able to meet its spaces and people through cafes or bars or just on the street has created a sense of disembodiment.   It’s like watching a piece of Performance Art.  This morning we cycled west again along the Pegnitz from an empty office on the Wörder Wiese island (possible starting point for the bike piece) . Both Carsten and the producer agreed that with the variety of spaces, communities and architecture on the way not to mention sounds and resonances, it could be a great score for the sonic bikes.

And just as we’ve cycled far enough, past the fake and pretty history and the idyll of the long rural park, wham. The huge Brückenstrasse bridge passes over our heads and people are whooping and leaping about with basketballs, ghetto blasters pumping, graffiti splashing colour on the concrete, and at the far end, where the bridge joins the land again, a collection of homes are nestled. A welcome breath of reality and a perfect moment for the bikes to stop, pause, turn about and return west.

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