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I got all my CDs when I went back home. Months without them was too horrible to express.
Anyhow, I just put on Chicane.
Instantly I was back in the Northern Beaches of Sydney, a place I lived for six months 18 months or so ago.
I was in my half-house on a small mountainside, surrounded by the lush wet foliage. Trees everywhere, a wide view through plants of the south towards the ocean and islands.
Slate floor, dark wood kitchen, windows covering one half of the house.
It was a paradise.
Then I was driving down the road from it towards everywhere. Sydney, the beach, the studio, the college, a gig. Overhanging trees, wet rocks. Beautiful.
The emotions of the time came back as well, though not as strongly as times before.
I am healing.
It's interesting that healing from divorce can perhaps be measured by the strength and length of weeping.
There was one track that would gut me. I'd be a heaving wreak buckled over containing inner screams that would have shredded my vocalists throat.
Today on a black leather couch over white tiled floors in the exotic Singapore, nothing. I only really remembered the beauty of the Northern Beaches, the paradise. The darkness was fleeting. Gave the positives a certain tonal colour. A certain shade.
Peace.
Life is such a ride.
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