I found my latest happy place this morning, sitting on the wet sand at the edge of the water on my beach, (because the rocks and logs were all slippery-frosted over and wet seemed better than slick and I made a mistake, okay?) headphones in and David Gilmour's song In Any Tongue on repeat, Cole's big grey sweater wrapped tightly around me.
This is the best. The sand is ice-cold, the music is glorious (the album is hit and miss, though Faces of Stone, A Boat Lies Waiting and the leads in the intro and outro are glorious. Also The Girl in the Yellow Dress is amazingly smooth and jazzy, a surprise. I wish Gilmour's voice was stronger. I wish he wouldn't age. Eventually there won't be any new music and we will still listen closely and hear things we never heard before. I will, anyway. I miss a lot.
In the meantime, I'll be here. Winter has finally arrived at my beach and once you survive the trip down here, it's the perfect place to be alone.
Not that I need to be alone or anything. I don't actually like to be alone but I also don't like to be anywhere but here.