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Broken Sleep, Broken Radios

I had the most curious dream. Then I awoke and thought I should share it. Then I let the day slide. Now that I come here the memory of what was already hazy has become as tenuous as childhood.

But I dreamed that I stopped my life moving forward, and, at the same time – for they seemed like two separate events – I stopped time from turning.

What resulted was absolute silence, absolute peace. And I dreamed that I would visit everyone in their sleep and begin a study as to where the need for music came from. I would begin by examining the radio alarms at the side of each bed, and move slowly towards attics and basements where discarded stereos gathered dust and made homes for spiders.

An empirical approach led – by some circuitous route – to be able to generate a graph with stems featuring labels such as; survival and The illusion of shared experience and measure of disposable income as validation

Then there is only a sense of the coming rain, gathering darkly across a distant field, far away, in the green morning of childhood. The ungraspable feeling that there was a choice to be made between a life in art and a long walk out to Kaimes Quarry. When I awoke – and even now – I still cannot understand this choice that seemingly had to be made. They seem so inextricably linked. But you would need to know the long walk to Kaimes Quarry to appreciate why. You would need to know a certain summer and the scent of single rose oil to know how