by the ratio of the human life span to that of the crickets. What you hear, then, is the song of crickets as if they lived as long as humans.Over tea and cakes in one of north Norfolk's plusher hotels, Morston Hall, [Robert] Wilson gestures to one of his entourage to get a laptop. After some techno-faffing, the assistant finds the file and plays it. I gasp; everybody gasps.
from Bryan Appleyard: The Sunday Times: Robert Wilson's Slow Time
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