Sentences with phrase «sound of bath water»

Not exact matches

To test their sound generator, they simulated the noise of a stream, a block being dropped into water, fast - flowing water filling a bath, a dam bursting and even a rubber duck being pushed around in a bath.

«The duck in the bath, which is all low - frequency, is the most convincing of the synthesised water sounds»

Notice the fresh scent of the bath, the sound of the filling tub, and the warm water soothing your fingertips.

The echoing water - drips while Alex takes his bath remind us indirectly of the sound effects in the «2001» bedroom, and then Alex sits down to a table and a glass of wine.

It might sound ridiculously basic, as far as flea treatments go, but bathing your dog in water can actually get rid of most of most of her fleas.

Getting your puppy used to the sound and feel of the water with your positive encouragement can lead to a confident dog that understands the bathing process.

St. John's vacation rentals reveal its green mountains, thick rain forests, colorful reefs, white sand beaches, clear blue waters and ever - blooming flowers, all bathed in an atmosphere of pleasant tropical sounds and fragrances.

Enjoy a traditional Maori hangi (feast cooked in a pit), get a taste of skiing and outdoor adventures in Queenstown, discover the icy grandeur of the Franz Josef Glacier, stay in a laidback country pub, kayak through Milford Sound, catch the Trans Alpine railway, cruise the beautiful Bay of Islands, visit the art deco ambience of Napier and the nearby Hawkes Bay Wine Region, take a thermal bath at Hot Water Beach and hike the coastal splendour of Abel Tasman National Park.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

But sometimes a little style is needed to entice people to take such basic measures — something designer Rochus Jacob provides with his latest elegantly simple creation.A shortlisted entry in the Incheon International Design Award (IIDA) 2010 competition, Jacob's «water displacement objects» are as straightforward as they sound: white, rounded stone - like pieces of recycled plastic that allow people to take a full bath with 50 percent less water.