»On listening to Albert Ayler while walking down West 22nd St

At Ninth Avenue, my iPhone crashed; I did not realise it, as I was enraptured by the Albert Ayler improvisational piece playing at the moment. I did notice the crash, as the on-screen photograph (above) still showed; and because the Ayler composition was looping, imperceptibly, in just the right way. The blurting saxophone suited the piece, but after a half-minute I figured out that the phone was playing whatever had been in its buffer at the time of the crash, repeatedly. Such beauty in decay: as the phone crashed, it continued playing; as the mouse died, it enlivened a block of pavement with colour.