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Shud Auld Akwaintens Be Furgoten?

Scrolling through my music library with 12 years under its belt. Scrolling past the album covers. Seeing graveyards of burnt bridges and missed connections. Staring vacantly while vague unfamiliar feelings overwash me. Album after album friend after friend phase after phase

No connection. No conjunction. Just a bunch of red strings. Tied in my music library and my brain. You know I think the most powerful memories are harmonic. Hours days weeks spent headphoned on neet life endless summer. Strange feelings locked away in a music library.

For a memory to really resound it must be accompanied with music. Your memories are nothing without sound without rhythm without harmony without soul. You can feel it when you listen to the songs of the long forgotten days and nights. When you find yourself transplanted.

When you find yourself bathing in that feeling wholly unique to you. It's as if your memory is in tune. It's as if it's perfectly hitting a note. You feel the warmth of it every sense coming together. Where are you now? Here or there? Could be either.

Natsukashii, ne.

threads/sunny/archive/auld.txt · Last modified: 2021/03/29 06:01 by ariosophy