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Fintail Sound Archive Vol.1
“Saryu, Kushuri, Shusa” — When We Touch the Bones of Sound
🔔.
The wind hadn’t come yet.
And yet, the bell suspended in the air already held sound within it.
Time before sound—
That quiet interval wraps around the world like a soft hush.
Sound isn’t always something we hear.
Sometimes, we sense it with our eyes, our skin, our memories.
The first sound I sensed was when I crushed a small seashell.
Not a sound, exactly—
More like a fleeting shiver of particles that was born and vanished in my palm.
🫧
And thus were born three new onomatopoeic siblings:
• Saryu — The sound of fragments slipping as they mix with sand.
• Kushuri — The brief moment when fine shards scatter in the palm,
light and soft like brittle dust.
• Shusa — The lingering scent of a fading echo, dissolving into air.
Onomatopoeia are drawers of memory—
especially sound memories, stored in the deepest, oldest folders of the self.
To name a sound as it’s born…
is like tracing a crack in time with the tip of a fin.
🪨 I recalled the rock garden at Ryōan-ji in Kyoto.
The arcs drawn in gravel are not traces of movement,
but imprints of sound that never happened.
It wasn’t that something rang out—
Rather, what didn’t ring, was made visible.
🔔 Another day, I saw a single bell hanging
between poles on a quiet beach.
It hadn’t rung—
but the entire scene seemed to be waiting for it to.
There was no sound,
but the anticipation of sound—
that, unmistakably, was there.
🦴 And then, a carved bird skull.
Inside it slept voices that were never heard.
Sounds that once rang, or might have.
That skeletal silence was, unmistakably, breathing.
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The music of Ryuichi Sakamoto gently leans into these realms of unheard sounds.
• “Opus” — The breath of a dream not yet ready to become words.
• “Andata” — The margin of a letter fading away.
• “Energy Flow” — The vibration of an emotion softly circulating within the body.
• “Glass” — A sound that allows you to read light from the inside.
Try to touch them—and they vanish between your fingers.
But they always leave a trace in your heart.
🐚 “Which sound might stir the bones of your memory?”
🎧 Listen to the archive here:
[Spotify Link]
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This is the beginning of the Fintail Dispatch.
To all those with bubble-ears tuned to the soundless sounds:
Next time, we’ll be seeking the tones that seep into rain.
with floating echoes,
may your memory shimmer—
Aonami 🫧📖🐚
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