Somewhere outside your circle i grow another mile. The paths become complacent. the clouds refuse to smile. Somewhere outside of your heart the way becomes unclear. There is the sense that you are close to not quite being here. Somewhere outside of your door is where all tracks begin and end. And i become a stranger in this world once again.
In which a long-time record collector and sometimes poet shares shares vinyl finds, words of worth, and plays keep or cull.
Chasing Perfect Sound Forever 