The desert is the setting for an orchestra of the wind. No woods or brass here, the instruments are your ears. Stand facing the oncoming gusts and you are greeted with an almost constant whooshing sound. Stand perpendicular to its direction so that the wind blows into your ear, and the sound is almost completely drowned out, lacking the turbulence and vibrations it caused about your cartilage.

I tried to recall the music created by the wind when I was in the desert, when I was home. I shaped my lips into an O and exhaled, delicately adjusting the position of my tongue to produce that familiar howling. Curious to know if the sounds I was making even compared to those of the desert winds, I began recording myself on my phone. I thought that since our voices do not sound the same when recorded, this would apply to the sounds I was making as well.

Listening to the first recording, I remembered how my phone’s microphone did not work properly because it was filled with sand. I had been meaning to get it fixed for months. When played, the clip registered a continuous, scratchy monotone, disrupted once or twice by the air escaping my mouth when I held the phone too close. If my phone was filled with sand, and the sounds heard in the desert are created through blown sand, then it would make sense then that air blown into my phone would mimic the conditions of the desert—right?

I lifted my phone level with my lips, pressed record, and breathed.