All that from a single album played off a home audio technique. I am afraid that the more I listen to it, the more present memories I'll imbue it with, which will cancel out the elderly ones, and so I am reticent to listen to it on repeat the way I used to while I first explored the intricacies of its steel guitar and syncopated cowbell.
And today, being able to reflect on all those feelings I no longer even feel them when I play the album on my home audio technique, but a collection of them tied to the album itself, so that it is the memory of the album holding nice memories that I find enjoyable when I am not actually listening to the deliciously beautiful and melodic songs. The album's a tiny over half an hour long and yet ironically it holds years of my life, which ordinarily I don't have access to in anything over flashes and bursts of memories, tiny snatches of images of her face, and looking out on the road, and feeling sweetly melancholy and alone, and all the realizations from that period of my life being more true than anything I have ever known since.
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