"From seventeen floors up, grapes make a loud cracking sound as they hit hot hard concrete. There's no-one around down there because no-one's been seen around here for weeks. They all moved out quick when they heard - they said I was mad for staying. But it's a beautiful day, it's hot, and I've got enough spare grapes to keep this game going for another couple of hours.
At the start of the game, I released a grape at the moment the previous hit the ground. With a little practice, this was easy, and the barren urban desert reverberated with a regular pulse. Sad, like the pacemaker that keeps ticking over, even after the old man is brain dead.
This regular beat gets into your head, and after a while you can leave out alternate grapes, dropping on one and three, and being echoed with a rock steady off-beat. And you've invented jazz. Real city-folk music. All from grapes being dropped off a tenement block balcony."
Nice. It continues ...