iben,

writing this between renders, sorry. you know how my left ear has been doing that thing — the small high whine when the 5A passes — i finally booked the audiology pod under tycho brahes allé. the booth is the size of a fridge and the door seals like a submarine, very dramatic for what is essentially a hearing test. they hand you a thin foam headset that runs its own calibration, then your phone does the rest. twenty minutes. they said come back in two weeks for the model.

i don't know why i'm anxious about this. ears are just ears. but i mix for a living, iben. if there's a notch in there i'll start compensating without knowing and every track i touch will tilt the wrong way. i'm already convinced the new neighbour upstairs put in one of those bone-conduction floors because i can hear his dishwasher inside my jaw.

vesterbrogade in june smells like wet asphalt and elderflower and someone is always frying onions on the corner of dybbølsgade. that part is still ok.

call me when you wake up. i'll be in the booth at three, then back to the mix.

n

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