Seven or eight years ago I acquired a radio-cassette Walkman: a Sony TCM F59. Since then, whenever I go on a trip, I throw the Walkman into my suitcase and take it around with me. No matter what country I am in, upon my return to the hotel room, it has become a habit to listen to the radio into the late hours of the night. As soon as I snuggle into bed, I begin tuning the radio in search of a program I like. If I concentrate very hard at my fingertips, I can sometimes catch two or three frequencies at once and hear different languages overlap. Russian, Swedish, Arabic, Korean… there is no bigger joy than the moment when I begin to hear these languages that are foreign to me not as words but as sound. In these moments, I am wading in voices.