I am a film. I go about, trying to explain my scenery to myself. The music in my headphones must be right if my soundtrack is to give pleasure; it can’t be a song with its own agenda; it has to rise to the egotistical sublime of my life. When the Doors abandoned me, and Bittersweet Symphony and Waterloo Sunset and I’ll Be Around and My Sweet Lord and A Day In the Life of a Fool, and Mozart piano concerto no. 17 and Moonlight Sonata and Gould Goldberg Variations by Bach and Chopin and Satie and Debussy and You Don’t Own Me and Be My Baby and Is That All There Is? wandering the park under the moon, I found Brahms’ Fourth Symphony, and fell into the sea. And woke on the train home.


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