The telespectators aural connection with the microevents of a tennis match is always subject to interruption. All it takes is a volley ending and a point being declared and the audience making a collective response for the sounds made by the players to disappear, as if their microphones suddenly shut off. Then they move, silent silhouettes, on the ground that does not crunch or squeak under their feet, and the radiophonic voice commenting on them regains the upper hand.

If, finally, during the television broadcast moments of aural poetry still manage to materialise in the silences between the anchors comments, it is a stroke of good fortune. For example, when you hear the hum of an airplane that passes by overhead, demonstrating it's ignorance of the sports event with a superb feline indifference. If only television would offer this "inhabited silence" more often: a little of the sonic flow of life.