Three days a week, at exactly 13:00, the bells in the tower begin to play. For a quarter of an hour or more, the Man In The Tower graces us with melodies and music.
The University is accidentally arranged in such a way as to bend, stop, and reflect the sounds coming from the tower.
As you walk along, a cascade of music envelops you. It comes from the left, then the right, now behind and then in front.
You walk through the music and it follows you along, walking you to class.
Sometimes, before it gets too late, the Man will play at night.
Even when it's eight o'clock at night and I'm walking home after a tedious lab, even if he doesn't always hit the right notes, I'm always grateful for the Man In The Tower and his music.
The University is accidentally arranged in such a way as to bend, stop, and reflect the sounds coming from the tower.
As you walk along, a cascade of music envelops you. It comes from the left, then the right, now behind and then in front.
You walk through the music and it follows you along, walking you to class.
Sometimes, before it gets too late, the Man will play at night.
Even when it's eight o'clock at night and I'm walking home after a tedious lab, even if he doesn't always hit the right notes, I'm always grateful for the Man In The Tower and his music.
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