Snap, judgment, studios.

Sometimes, in some places, we feel a presence simply by standing where they stood, walking

where they walked, even seeing what they saw.

It could be an underpass, a road, a bedroom.

The place seems to have absorbed an echo.

And even if we can't articulate it, we know this.

We know this.

But whatever it is refuses to stay confined to any single spot.

And it attaches instead to someone, someone's still walking around.

From Snap Judgements Underground Lair, you're listening to Sput.

Stay tuned.

Spooks does.

Let me ask you for a quick favor.

We're conducting an audience survey, and I would be really grateful if you take just a few moments to give us your thoughts.

Please visit survey.prx.org slash Sput to tell us what you think.

That's survey.prx.org slash Sput.

Thanks.

From KQED and PRX, you've crossed over to Sput.

As a kid, living in rural Michigan, I spend most of my summers in the woods.

Running, climbing trees, tracking deer, that electric insect buzz of the deep forest becomes a soundtrack of my childhood.

I imagine that I'm the first person leaping these strings, carving these trees until one day.

I see three weathered pieces of rough.

...