Sunday, April 24, 2016

Sunday

I grew up with Pink Floyd playing on tape in my father's car. My mother despised it. I loved it.
The other day he received their latest ('14) album The Endless River from a friend and bewildered and enchanted as I expected him to become, he asked me to just listen to it and see for myself. When I opened the cover and went through the titles, my eyes stopped at the very last one. When I get to know a new record I like to play it through from start to finish, but this time, I just felt the strange internal urge to play the last melody. The entire album is instrumental, except for this last song. I did not know that. As I sat with my eyes closed, the music entered every cell of my body and the lyrics penetrated the deepest of my heart... Isn't it strange, magical would probably be a more suitable word, how answers come from the -seemingly- most random corners of our human experience? I feel like my week was building up to this very moment in time.

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