What would you do differently if you knew you were being watched? What if hundreds of people were watching and listening in as someone secretly narrated your every move? As the sun sets in glowing ombre shades at Perth’s Scarborough beach, those there for the markets and an evening stroll are visibly perplexed by us: 200 people packed into a grandstand facing not the water but the esplanade, wearing enormous headphones as we silently stare at – and sometimes laugh at – the people walking by.
Through the headphones we hear distant sounds of surf and play, as if picked up by a hidden microphone somewhere in the distance. A female voice – half-spoken, half-sung – sets the scene over gentle music. “A clear sky. A distant plane,” it breathes silkily. “Humidity 20%. The flare of a late afternoon sun creating dancing dots, oracular squiggles across your eyes.”
