hanging ’round

Future Islands – Walking Through That Door

There comes a time where you can’t tell anymore where one thing starts and another thing ends — where there was a middle and the middle doesn’t matter anymore.  When this time comes, it happens and it’s as though it’s always happened, been happening, will happen unconditionally for a forever that speaks in the tone and colour of everyday things — a wristwatch on the dresser and a sun in the sky.  There was an A and a B and a line between them — there was a place to go and a place to come from.  There was everything in between.  But all at once there’s everything, and “all” and “once” are meaningless.  Words fall from your mouth like a dead horse falls in the dirt.

And suddenly, that’s a feeling you’re familiar with.