Clapping Music

more than these nine. Some argue that there are up to twenty-one. What about hunger? Or thirst? The sense of depth, or the sense of meaning, or language? Or the endlessly intriguing subject of synaesthesia, where senses collide and combine so that music can be perceived in color? And what about the sense of electricity, or even impending danger, when your hair stands on end? There are also senses which some animals have but we don’t. Sharks have keen electroception, which allows them to sense electric

door. Now early that evening the Caliph secretly left the palace, accompanied by his grand-vizir, Giafar, and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs, all three wearing the dresses of merchants. Passing down the street, the Caliph had been attracted by the music of instruments and the sound of laughter, and had ordered his vizir to go and knock at the door of the house, as he wished to enter. The vizir replied that the ladies who lived there seemed to be entertaining their friends, and he thought his master

clamour clan : clan clandestin : black, blackly clandestine : clandestinely, underhandedly clandestinité : clandestineness clapet : valve clapoter : lap, plash, splash clapper : chirrup claqua : clapped claquai : clapped claquâmes : clapped claquant : clapping claque : rap claqué : clapped claquée : fagged claquées : clapped claquent : clap French−english Dictionary 369 French−english (dictionnaire) claquer : clap, click, rattle claquèrent : clapped claqués : clapped claqueter : clack claquez :

times, and in the logistics planning, creating of invitations, ceremony writing, etc. both of us actually began to experience the healing that we intended. We did this before fifty of our closest friends and family. The ceremony was filled with tears, music, laughter, and prayers—the poetry of life. By the end of the ceremony, we had truly “completed” that part of our lives, and my soul has been freer ever since. I attended this remarkable ceremony, and it was like nothing I’d ever been to before.

debating whether to hire a private detective to find out where she's hiding. "Sharon says she heard something when she was on the phone talking," says my mother. I look at Sharon. "You know that music Grandpa always listens to?" she says. I say, "You mean Grandpa Barnett?" "Uh-huh, you know," she says, "the music that puts you to sleep, with the-what are they called?" "Violins," says Dave. "Right, the violins," says Sharon. "Well, when Mom wasn't talking, I heard that on the phone last night." "I heard

system . . . Is it going away?” I could swear he sighed. He gestured me to precede him into the living room. The lamps were off. Bill had lit candles. I counted eight. I wondered what he’d been doing, sitting alone in the flickering light. Listening to music? He loved his CDs, particularly Bach. Feeling distinctly worried, I sat on the couch, while Bill took his favorite chair across the low coffee table. He was as handsome as ever, but his face lacked animation. He was clearly suffering. Now I knew why

She's teaching Lenya to sing 'The Little Farm,' and the boy to dance, and Polina Mikhailovna as well; she's tearing up all the clothes, making them some sort of little hats like actors; and she herself is going to carry a basin and bang on it for music...She won't listen to anything...Imagine, you see? It's simply impossible.” Lebezyatnikov would have gone on longer, but Sonya, who had been listening to him almost without breathing, suddenly snatched her cape and hat and ran out of the room,