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Accent Work (Geordie): Young Adult

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Voice Over • Audiobooks
11

Description

Role of Ava Kapoor in Helen Oyeyemi's \"Peaces\" with Penguin Random House.

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English (British)

Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)

Accents

England - North East (Tyneside, Geordie)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Dina to Harry. I used to Boston what I think of as Newcastle's town Centre, old Eldon Square. I get there early in the morning, set up my instrument and start playing as the sun came up. I played fast in the East with ST George slaying his dragon behind me. The really it is less of a killing at noon atop that pedestal and more of a depiction of some fascination a courtship, possibly between the sand and the serpent. George courteously offers the dragon a metal spike. The dragon just as gallantly ingests it, and both seem gratified that is going down so well. I played Thurman adapted rebels until shops opened. And when you do that, passersby really give you whatever they have to give. Sniggers stirs comments about noise, pollution, phone numbers, doughnuts, song requests, applause, impromptu dance routines. Spur. Change a £5 note, cause I'm not sure exactly what you're up to, but it's a ballsy move. Girls like you remind me I wouldn't want to live in any other city. I played for an hour and a half, regardless. Then I got at work online customer service for a few different companies just me and my laptop logged into a few different company email accounts with a number of databases open so I could check the typical things customers inquire and complain about, or contact somebody who could find out what was what. Phone calls were rare during the deer. And I like that because it meant I'd be able to answer immediately if there was anything about my dad. In short, it was the standard life of a music scholar would love to play of occasionally, but can't time, money, talent and grit. I think I have been able to do more with my Thurman if I'd been lacking only two of those four essentials. But I lacked all for what did I have instead realism. What a gift. Most of the time, it's as if my life is hiding from me well, as a player. Not by not I Echo, locate it. One morning in Eldon Square, the most beautiful emergency had ever seen walked by, dressed in red from head to tour and chugging a can of Red Bull. She had her earphones in, but she pulled them out and listen to my playing. She didn't stop walking, and I had to choose between looking at her and following the notation on the sheets in front of me. So I lost her. But she came by again the next day. I'm the next, each time, dressed as if she would go in somewhere special, or as if that day was a very important day. But when we spoke, she told me she'd just come from picking up or dropping off packages and dry cleaning and things like that. And her name was Allegra you. One morning, she asked if I was OK with her record in my bus key. I said I was, but that I didn't want her to put it online or anything. She told me she needed the recording so that she could compose for me. Compose for me. I didn't see her for a couple of weeks, and then she came and gave me what she had written. An untitled, spinning top sort of sonata that slowed down into an arch darting, akin minaret. I was a bit scared to play it in public, and I wondered if that was how Prince felt about performing. Sometimes it felt like people might get pregnant just from listening to this. Men, women, everybody. The raunchy spear ship song went down well, and over the following weeks Allegra you brought me two more songs. The second song was a boozy blue Z piece that made my Thurman sound as if it was looking back on a long life of crime. And the third song was a dance tune that had all these charming little trips and falls in it just like a row of dizzy. DOT clings after the third song, realising that we'd already danced together and slept together and added and abetted each other, I asked her out. She said I'd had a kick in her blankets at night, wondering if she was no longer a genius, usually only text one song.