Infinitely Distracting

Learn all about how songs get the better of us. Sooner or later, one has to … let oneself go.

The things that may seem insignificant now, could well be even more so in the future.

Well, I am not steering home at all, but in the opposite direction, to a kind of non-home, perhaps never-to-be home, or then again, what do I know. A fortune teller I am not. Merely a swaying wayward…

Of nights I have seen many. Nights of pure fancy. Nights of boundless energy, others of inexplicable lethargy. Frantic nights rife with antics and misbehaviour. Unrepeatable nights of unrestrained fe…

I ponder nights. I ponder myself pondering nights, this night that stretches and stretches, out and out and out and out...

On you fly, on a different tangent to the sun—just a glow now—an arc of orange light, sailing on you go, into the night, in peace, into nowhere, released, high above the Earth, your beautiful wings s…

Down below, the city you leave is turning like some kind of mechanical toy in a shop window. You are nowhere now, hanging in suspension, high above the Earth in your winged, metallic cocoon, drinks t…

As dusk settles—a gentle afterthought and subtle show of colour, tangerine to rose, mauve to indigo—the sun slips down behind the back of the stage, briefly infuses then fades, leaving brushstrokes o…

Engines ignite and suddenly you are accelerating down a runway … towards tomorrow.

I took on a night job, with the aim of saving up for a ticket to somewhere, working as a night watchman in the city house of horrors, a gothic-looking building on the side of a hill, surrounded of co…

Could it simply be that, really, the heart is a lonely hunter, always was and always will be.

Each day is a blank page, if you choose to read it in that way. And on the blank page, much can be written, and much has been written.

I was thinking in song, stalking it, walking all around it and looking at it from different angles. I wondered if there was a greater audience than the nocturnal creatures I entertained each night,

Someone might be dying to find out how all this is going to end, someone might be.

One thing leads to another, always it does. We cannot avoid that or detain it in any way.

Things lost and found, kept and unkept, kempt and unkempt, disregarded and discarded. There's no stopping time, no time to look behind. This episode comes with a song, "Saving grace" from the album, …

The Polaroid clicks and then spits out a blue grey square of captured moment.

It sure is dark down there, but this is where one wants to go, so, … one must go on.

Is that where you want to be?

By the time she gets to the bottom of the stairs a light evening shower has sprinkled magic in the streets and all over town, releasing the perfume of freshly crushed rain. On