In the flags of coloured cloth, waving on the top of mountains, counts their chirping, meaning their noisily trembling in the wind. The acoustic zeal of these moving flags fills the space and not necessarily towards meeting a god, though they are printed on the prayers.
The flags make the space pop to stimulate the air. To hang a flag in a high place, on a windy day, when the wind blows, the air is sublimated because it is enhanced by the tickling of wobbling. Therefore, the irritation of the flags do not ascend to heaven, but have an impact in the environment they fill. Above all, they are interposed tabs to the open space, the empty space is supplied with a reed. The flags are languages, the wind is bellows for the reeds. This organic does a querulous racket, because it produces whistles shaking the edges of the cloth, as strident organs enervated by the wind. All the pinched of the shivering tissue is an undismayed acoustic buzz.
Here we document a music in its resonant scenery, so it is n organological search, not panoramic. Vibratory phenomena are caught in the silent space and in the horizon of the echo, not a view, because the hung flags are portrayed as musical organs.
There is an acoustic fertility inside the flags, even when at rest, generating a range of tiny noises. Through the fray the edges of the flags are ventilated margins that make rustling noises. The clamor of these beats sound is reduced to a noise measurement of a hiss, like a buzzing bee. The sense of a screech just humming is a roar expressed in a tingling, because the most striking voice of all is reduced to a rattle.
The musical protection of the world is made with whispers, the cosmos is defended by murmurs, not by great music.