A radio station from Toronto - one man and one woman speaking through a filter of digital warp. It downtunes and softens their voices. I get the sense it's not pre-recorded, but live and transformed in the moment. Gives the effect they could be just underwater, in the comfortable shallows, with blue light and pillows of fish all around. They talk as if moontouched or stoned.
He tells her about a camping trip he's been on - the Canadian shield, some plateau of ancient rock. She repeats the word 'rock' several times, an echo that makes me think perhaps this is pre-recorded after all, maybe all this happened before, but then she starts coughing, gently because of the audio filter, even the cough is comforting, it doesn't seem possible to cough harshly under that damp sounding light, and he asks her, in a rabbit's kiss of a voice, if she's ok.
They close out by talking of how they need to tend to a cat they're looking after, before wishing their listeners a pleasant day, in tones that come from somewhere under evening earth recently rained on. Their voices sound like everything in this world is safely enclosed in a blanket and that sharp objects can't get in. I'm left with no doubt about much.