An Open Letter

I have so much I want to write about this song that I can't do it justice right now in public, so this is hopefully just a preamble.

Basketball shoes – black country, new road

One thing that's stuck with me was a girl sharing how as a kid there was a part of a song that she loved near the end, and how she would ask her dad to play the good part. Her dad would tell her no, and that it was the reward for listening to the rest of the song. Or at least something along those lines.

The end of this 12 minute song is an emotionally bursting crescendo that toys the line of overwhelm. It's one of those parts of a song that for a minute or so gives you the oh so human feeling of pure empathy. I don't know if the artist and you share feelings, or if you both sit in the same feeling in two different sets of clothing. But for a bit you sit together as one.

There's so much more to that I want to write, but specifically I want to briefly ramble about how to kill that magic. Think about if everything came to you the first time easily. When I think of the strongest memories and achievements I have, they were when they weren't guaranteed. When they weren't just in my fingertips. When I had to fight and work for them. I think that's what makes it so sweet.

I think of her dad whenever I restart the 12 minute song for that one minute.