Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Oil On Canvas, the sound of it.

A borrowed Walkman, siding the cassette in, also borrowed, lying on the lower bunk.

Japan, Oil On Canvas made feel nostalgic the very moment I listened.

The warm afternoon sun coming through the over washed windows warming the quiet dorm on Sunday afternoon.


I carried a copy of it with me for years, to Australia, on to become part of the sound track of the rail and bus system of the Vancouver period.
Coming back to the Pacific, home, but to a more empire influenced region than the the last stand of the Maori where I grew up. The grey stone former glory of the place I wore well with my mood.


Five years, but time is not as linear as I once thought it was. Those five equal twenty.
There, that point in time. I lost my copy.


I lifetime later, I acquire a second hand CD.

Now, March 3, 2010, it plays.
I am at work in a studio, and I feel, nostalgia.