You were sleeping for a time, until rain started pouring intensely, at first it started with a few droplets, then it became a whole mount of water. It was scary. At least at first. Suddenly, a sudden nostalgia appeared, you put on your vinly, made to you by someone special, and you put that favorite song of yours from 2001. "Can't say goodbye to yesterday" you lay on your bed, pondering and wondering. Who was the woman that sung that song... Carla White. It's almost a ghost, thunder in there takes you from the whole experience. The vinly is playing in another room, you don't know which, you want to stand up and maybe play something less melancholic, but you suddenly realize you need this peace. So you let it stay, you know each and every note, which lyric, you know why this song was made, when it was played... there is no new mystery to it... Except for a single one. Why you love it. You don't know it yet, it's possible you never will. You suddenly smile. You feel a sensation of compassion. You feel a form of happiness. You are finally satisfied, that people took work and passion, to make this masterpiece and made you feel it. A little flicker of light in a strange world made of madness. You can barely believe it, it's amazing. You are so fulfilled. Yet you barely did nothing out of it, besides living... somehow, all of this nostalgic melancholy stops you from doing something, although even you know, that this song must end, that you will need to setup. That you need to wake up. That you need to do something... But for now, the thunders, the vinly cracking noises, that lone sax on that beautiful song, make you feel accomplished. You feel the pleasures of life. You realize life is worth saving. You realize that you are fulfilled. Nothing else seems to matter now. The song, you wished that song lasted long, more than those 7 minutes, almost 8. But you can feel it. You know it's coming to a close, it's crescendo is smoothly swifting away, leaving all the raing. Your now only companion. However, even the raind disappears. All there is left is the cracking noise of a empty vinyl...
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