Filtering up through the leaves of Reynolds Square, six floors below, I hear a soft buzz of park‐bench conversation.
Apart from the occasional blare from a rock band across the street, or some D.J.-driven accompaniment to a lawn darts tournament nearby, the dominant sound here is the soft buzz of those costumed thousands doing their Zombie Shuffle.
There is no constantly ringing cellphone, no beeping BlackBerry or hovering personal assistant, just the soft buzz of the intercom when his chef summons him and this writer to lunch in the formal dining room.
As Mr. Krukis's BlackBerry — yes, his personal hand-held device was the marker of time for the decades-old clock tower — struck noon, he and Mr. Vinokur flipped the switch of a circuit breaker, and a new era in chronography was greeted by the soft buzz of four 10-volt motors.
Has that electricity in the air faded to a soft buzz?
I can picture myself on a warm summer day, sitting in the garden, lulled into tranquility by the soft sounds of buzzing as the worker bees fly in and out the hive, hopping from one flower to another.
Over 2,000 delicate LEDs fill the Olympus Photography Playground in artist collective Neon Golden's SWARM, the lights' soft, electric emissions buzzing through the 850-cubed-foot space in Vienna.
Sometimes the feeling is strong: of limitless space, high clear sound, acrobatic balance and euphoria, of buzzing cities, soft winds, relaxing lulls.
It can be a kind of drill sergeant, glowing red and letting off louder noises, or a softer kind light and buzzing.
The column grew thicker and denser as it moved to a softer part of his brain, buzzing all the way.
The other is a series of lavenders and blues whose soft optical buzz hovers somewhere between Chinese silk and Chinese landscape painting.
