I was convinced that producing sound material which could tell the story of my city during a pandemic was impossible. Napoli is a city made up of a masses meeting, assemblies which always produce a dense sound material, a city where silence is rare and where the voices of those who wander fuse with the sing-song voices of vendors, the joyful shouting of children who chase each other playfully, scooters that zoom along and the ladies who, even though the telephone has been around for a century, continue to call out to and dialogue with each other through the open windows of their homes. Then I began to think about the people who would listen to my work and I imagined that students of a foreign language, when visiting the country where it is spoken, most probably listen in a different way to a “simple” traveller; his or her selective hearing will lead them to go beyond the soundscape, to focus on the details, anxious to know about details that you can’t find in textbooks, that you can’t see in the films but that you absorb by practicing and living the cities: everyday happenings, secrets and contradictions. More than just sound, this piece of work needed words, which is a sound too of course but a sound that carries knowledge, memories, consciousness, intimacy, fears. Afterall, my artistic research into sound has been focused on words for a while, which are words where our ancestors dialogue with the living, places where knowledge and traditions are passed on in a way that no other form of communication can achieve. And that is how I wish for my work to be used: like a journey, but not a virtual one, a journey through dreams, a journey where you can enter into other peoples homes which turn you into a witness and safekeeper of a collective memory which risks getting lost in a society which keeps moving faster and becoming more distracted, losing the ability to nourish their roots and be nourished by them.