Zvuky Prahy / Sounds of Prague

I stand in an upright casket and ascend to the sound of a gentle rumbling, a low wooden thrum, regular like a heartbeat, together with the occasional mousey squeak of gears and chains. Surrounded on five sides by cello-colored wood, I am hanging in a small chamber, loosely fitted in a vertical tunnel, so that any shift of my weight, say from one foot to the other, causes the sides of the box to softly strike against the walls of the shaft with a deep throaty rattle.

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