Staccato

It's the 26th of April of 2025. At Tim Hortons café, in the morning, whilst I was drinking my Classic Lemonade and eating a croissant, I met two young Kenyan men, who were lining up to the till. We talked about their language Swahili—Kiswahili. I said how its staccato beauty reminds me of Japanese! Then our conversation led to safari tours, rustic Zanzibar, and our voyages throughout the world.

According to the syllable-timed hypothesis, Spanish syllables as staccato.

The tumultuous noise resolved itself now into the disorderly mingling of many voices, the gride of many wheels, the creaking of waggons, and the staccato of hoofs.

Now, play the same passage very staccato.

The same nervous staccato laugh broke from her thin lips, and her fingers began to play with a long tortoise-shell paper-knife.

A kind of tense peace, like the centre of a cyclone, descended. Not for long, of course, for already stealing upon one's hearing would be the staccato bark and thrust of the banker bringing up the rear.

The water-level route, the whistle and the loud staccato exhaust of this great engine recalled most vividly memories of the New York Central Hudsons highballing along the Hudson River between Harmon and Albany!