Listening on the stairwell of Lincoln’s Library.

When given the task: Sit and listen. Write down everything you hear – all speech noises etc, to create a literary soundtrack I decided to do this in a secluded corner of the first floor stairwell.
I thought that this location would be a quiet place, and that I would find myself only writing down things I heard in the distance…

There is a low humming sound. It sounds as though it is coming from something electrical, perhaps the large light above me.
Doors are creaking in the distance, with the accompaniment of footsteps. The wind is blowing through a gap in the door. It is creating an eerie sound which is reminiscent of a woman’s scream.

When the wind stops, you can hear a distant sound of traffic, cars racing by. An engine stalls, but the driver manages to restart it within a few seconds, and they drive away.

Footsteps in the distance, getting closer and louder. The door next to me creaks as it swings open. Footsteps. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight – the footsteps are getting quieter and quieter – nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen – I can barely hear them now – eighteen, nineteen… There is silence.

The wind continues to howl, with the undertones of the electrical humming. Several footsteps can suddenly be heard in the distance.

A door from the second floor opens quickly and closes with a huge bang. There are footsteps… too many to count. There must be two or three people creating those footsteps. There are three. It sounds like someone is rustling something, perhaps in a bag. I hear one person say “Yeah, five until seven, what?” to which another replies “yeah five until seven, i know.” All three people laugh. The laughing only lasts a couple of seconds, then the door next to me slams.

I return to the noises of the wind and humming. Once again I can hear the traffic in the distance.

I hear faint footsteps, the door creaks open, but only half way. I hear someone say “exclusive report, even though his contract is only worth twelve pounds fifty.” The door slams shut, with nobody coming past my secluded corner. Suddenly, it creaks open again and I hear footsteps as someone walks past me – one, two, three – and so on.

As this person continues stepping up the stairs, another person steps down. One, two, three, four, five – they stop. A phone rings. “Allo, allo? Oui Je regrette beacoup” were the only french words I could pick out. The person speaking is laughing, then suddenly – six, seven, eight, nine, ten – footsteps back up the stairs, and a door slams.

I can no longer hear anyone.

In just five minutes of listening, things could be heard that you wouldn’t expect to hear in a library. More importantly, on a stairwell. It proves that no library is “quiet.” Sound will accompany any environment.  It made me question, is there really anywhere that is truly silent?

Jessica Bark