III: Nocturne | Silver-Tipped Swallow: "Qi"

The year I first fell in love with a girl was the year I stopped playing the piano.

Even now I can wear night like a comfort, even if remembering hurts sometimes. The moments still feel magical.

I can explain it so well. The night soft-nosed and sprawling. This air is heavy on my teeth, but I can trust it for now.

I find nocturne in the buffering of the wind against my car windows as I speed down the freeway at nine o’clock in the evening.

Miles and Miles and Miles to Go

I took comfort in making myself even smaller, tucking in my edges until I felt whole. Myself, a perfect and solitary thing.

¿Libretto Crescendo?

A violin plays, the notes lifting up and back down again, reverting in the end back again into air. I breathe. Somehow, it makes sense.

II: Saudade | Searchlight Song: "Corporeal"

You know that ache? When everywhere cries swan song, but no air can hope to hold you like a voice holds back the wind?

Like all good stories, she & I began with remembering.

The longing to be far away has been replaced by a longing to keep everything like this—alive, resilient, unquiet.

A woman holds a box depicting a woman holding a box—and on backwards and inwards until the music stops.