All the birds I never recorded, and some I did.
Re-imagined. Stretched and stuttering, glitching and morphing, swirling and sputtering.
Artifact and performance, digital bits all.
I imagine them swooping and calling in these scaffolds of sound I have made for them.
Gleaming amid technicolour jungles. Alive, unassailable; in a world we haven’t ruined.
In a field recording I never made.