How important is a voice? Did sound precede light? According to the bible it does. Let there be light, boomed the big bang voice of God, and there was.
Why does the bible never describe anyone?
Only what they say is important, from the angel's announcement to Paul in Athens, and everything in between, there is no mention of visuals except the unknown god.
My sheep know my voice, comments the Christened one and before the fire descended on Pentecost there was a rushing wind.
Again, the sound preceded the visuals, and resulted in unity of language, not appearance.
Barry Manilow observed, "all it takes is one voice"
If Jean Reno and Gerard Depardieu are the gardeners of cinema, then one of the voices is Robin Williams,
from Good morning vietnam to Jacob hte liar to Mrs Doubtfire,
you get the sense he is less of a stand up comic than a radio personality.
In fact, one could sadly say that Williams has now joined the Dead Poets Society.
Mumia, Radio Free Europe, Garry Davis, Sealand, Oscar Romero, the radio has long been used as the voice of freedom, the announcement of truly good news.
How did the leopard become interested in the radio?
One day a friend of the leopards, a girl who lived in her dormitory asked her to go to a Winton marsalis concert on campus...and the leopard who had never heard of the trumpeter, said yes because why not?
Music was mostly always a fun time and she had already become famous in the dorm for jumping up and down and shouting the lyrics to the songs of Dexys midnight runners who had a notably brassy horn section as well as a fi fie fiddly aye fiddle section.
On the way back, the friend asked if she might want to go to an informational meeting on radio broadcasting.
Not long after that, the two of them were broadcasting weekly from 3 to five, a slot no one wanted, where they played jazz, the marsalis fan's predilection, and Blue eyed soul--which, while the leopard had never heard of that term, her favorite music was all in that category.
So why did the leopard switch from Dexys to Pavarotti?
Every morning on her way to a job at the local supermarket, and every afternoon on her way back, she passed the shop of a singing Sicilian barber, who had a thousand Celentano cassettes in a briefcase in the back room, who, irrepresible as a fontana would proposition every woman who walked past, crying "Why don't you go out with me, because I'm short?"
whom we shall call "the barder of the ville." LOL