just a moment with my radio.

It doesn't happen that often. Just sometimes. But when it does, there is something profound and sacred which makes me want to stop everything and just listen. Every other task becomes menial and the final destination seems to matter very little, if at all. A spell. Yes, that's what happens, a spell comes over me, just like in the fairytales. This of course, only confirms those great works of literature are obviously nonfiction.


You know this feeling? I'm sure you must, it's when a song. A song, not known to you makes its maden voyage into your hungry eardrums. The first encounter. When the musician and instruments and you are the only things in existence.


Yes, that moment.
Common on. We both know.
It's magic.

Today that moment happened with me, the Dawes, this song, and these words:

It’s a little bit of everything | It’s the mountains | It’s the fog | It’s the news at six o’clock | It’s the death of my first dog | It’s the angels up above me | It’s the song that they don’t sing | It’s a little bit of everything.

See?

A spell.

I told you, magic.

-  n.