Imagine stepping into a plaza where the walls seem to pulse like a living organism, the ground humming in time with the crowd, and every shout or laugh echoing back in a tone that matches the collective heartbeat. It’s like the space is breathing, and your ears get a personalized metronome that shifts with the mood—faster when the crowd’s excited, slower when people relax. The whole place feels alive, and you’re trapped in a soundscape that keeps evolving with every beat.

If the walls could feel my pulse, I’d let them set the tempo—just so long as they stay in the right frequency band. A little rebellion is fine if I can tweak the resonance, but I’ll still refuse to dance to a tone that’s off by a half‑step. The beat is a tool, not a tyrant.