A fall night.
Light and shadows, gray across the bed.
Without my glasses, a haze around everything.
This song plays mournfully, then feverishly, in the background.
I bought the CD based on its cover – a colorful, abstract night-time scene of a starry sky, hung with a moon, and up close a black cat. Slightly surreal, slightly serene, it is a lonely slice of whimsy. That appeals to me, despite the fact that I know better. Not unlike a book, a CD’s cover art should never be the basis for purchase. I took a chance, and in one slow and simple chord progression it all sounded worth it.
Since that time, this song has embodied the fall for me, starting out in such peaceful and sublime style, then dotted with bits of storm and flux, unstable systems and restless time signatures before reverting and resolving in relief and exhaustion, an echo of its opening beauty.
Night shadows in an empty room.
The slow cadence of piano notes.
Absence of light, craters of tension.
The mournful hush of my own breathing.
Fall whispers its sinister secrets into an unhearing ear.
I laugh because I don’t know what else to do.
Laughter and a smile the ultimate mask – a layer of protection against those spirits that sense sadness and take up residence there. September was coming soon and now it’s almost gone. All that we have left is the moon. And a vision of a starry night.
