{"type":"rich","version":"1.0","provider_name":"Transistor","provider_url":"https://transistor.fm","author_name":"Local ","title":"Hovering","html":"","width":"100%","height":180,"duration":684,"description":"This kingdom of mine might cover only twenty kilometres squared, but it seemed at times to span a thousand worlds. From winter to sum- mer, welcoming smiles to grumpy shouts, and from last week’s jaded streets to this long grass, busy with butterflies, where I lay on my back, alone and undisturbed, and enjoyed the warm sun on my face. \nDown in the distance I could see the city’s gleaming towers, shim- mering in the midsummer haze. I lay still for a while, listening, hov- ering above myself in my mind’s eye, allowing myself to settle into the grid square and its vibe. I heard birdsong and the hum of a motorway. ‘The language of birds is very ancient,’ wrote Gilbert White in a letter. ‘Little is said, but much is meant and understood.’ ","thumbnail_url":"https://img.transistorcdn.com/oUbxJGb87Em17EXcM-5sVqEzl-_Yp1aPdYun9J2kDeg/rs:fill:0:0:1/w:400/h:400/q:60/mb:500000/aHR0cHM6Ly9pbWct/dXBsb2FkLXByb2R1/Y3Rpb24udHJhbnNp/c3Rvci5mbS9zaG93/LzQ2MTIwLzE2OTc1/NDkxMDItYXJ0d29y/ay5qcGc.webp","thumbnail_width":300,"thumbnail_height":300}