Honestly, I feel that with every song I write, I learn something new about myself.

To Trade a Throat for Song

Call this bridge, meeting place. Call it, mosque. Call it, and it will call back.

Lake Song

When night came, we were shepherded inside. Too many animals. Too many hungry trees.

Music, Personal EssayDanie ShokoohiSeptember 17, 2017

Home is a City in Your Mind

I stopped writing. Okay. Yes. But say instead, the world ended. Say instead, lobotomy.

Music, Personal EssayDanie ShokoohiSeptember 2, 2017

I want those who listen to be emotionally impacted, whether it’s positive or negative. That’s what art does.

A Sonatina for King

When I think of my piano, I always picture an open lid, the keys collecting a shallow pool of the yellow light.

Homecoming (a selection, a remembering)

My two weeks of solid travel begin at 5 AM on the train platform to Chicago.

And here we hold one more issue of Half Mystic Journal in our hands: a home true & unwavering in every shade of night.

From the Editor: The Nocturne Issue

It is a difficult thing to assemble darkness into an act of creation.

I am at my best when the evening falls. I love the way it smells outside, the air of mystery that it creates.