Seeing with Sound
It’s early in the morning in Brofjorden, a fjord about an hour and a half from the Swedish port city of Gothenburg. Leif Sunesson is four or five years old, fishing down by the water. It’s cold, and it sounds that way: the bobbing of the water is slower, particularly sharp. When the sun gradually moves higher up in the sky, shining over everything, the ecosystem of sound engulfing him changes. Every channel of noise travels quicker, and details become harder to catch—become dimmer, less crisp—when the world warms up.
Pass the Pixel
If you’ve ever been in a room with flying cars, you’ll know the air is humid and there are a lot of potato chips. Such a place exists in Windsor, Ontario at St. Clair College. Once a year around mid-March, you can spot groups of twenty-somethings huddled over computer screens, trying to make cars fly.
Say Yes. Figure It Out Later
In 1985, thirty-nine year old Joanne Wilkinson stood in the wings instead of centre stage. As a nurse in the Kootenay mountain town of Kimberley, B.C., she had gotten involved with the local community theatre a few months earlier, creating costumes for her teenage son, Miles.