Now the music starts again, the ending morphs into an interlude morphs into new notes. Never a silence that stays.

The great pause in my life is the way I am constantly forgetting to breathe. As such, I must always remind myself.

So much of our lives are scheduled. We mourn the lack of interlude, lament the promising lull of nothing to do.

Consider yourself the moon’s caretaker, and you will understand how I felt on that hill.

Early Refrains (A Rediscovery of Sorts)

I didn’t realize that my grandmother enjoyed music until I was eleven years old.

You came so far & you still made it here, she says, & I am thinking of a migration of birds exhaling into feathers.

Enter: Sound / On Reusing Music

If someone asks me to imagine the word forget, I think of walking to the outer dorms on a rainy day.

Disquiet

It has always been a tenuous thing, your ability to tolerate your surroundings.

A Darker Color

Every street in Paris is layered in songs. Every street in Paris is layered in ghosts.

V: Cadenza | Searchlight Song: "Stop Time"

Wait. Miles Davis is on. That’s half the picture right there. His muted trumpet braids silver around my veins.