Brett: I can remember as a child sitting on an oddly textured red carpet staring at a spinning black disk. The carpet, like the record, had seen better days, but both offered their deteriorated forms as a means to travel into my young imagination. Like the focus of a camera I could adjust my brain to interpret, through \”soft eyes\”, and actually see J. Verne\’s giant squid fighting the Nautilus, cheer hopefully for Black Beauty as he endured cruelty, and wonder what the heck a \”Churkendoose\” looked like.
I loved those songs and stories and the sense of time having no meaning when they played. I didn\’t know what signal to noise ratio, frequency range or bass response meant; it didn\’t matter. All that mattered was that I could sit on that dilapidated red carpet and listen to Herman\’s Hermits, Treasure Island, and Tchaikovsky. I\’d stand up and spin in circles till the world was a big blur of music, stories and churning carpet chunks
I never thought then that I\’d be able to have one of my own stories spinning from the speakers into my ears as an adult. Moments in our life crave for correspondence with \”like\” moments. We reach out for them unknowingly and they click into place. I can\’t wait to share my current stories with me, that little boy on the red carpet where time has no meaning.