Sometimes I feel as though life is like a turntable playing a record
Grooves that lie behind, grooves that lie ahead
Mere echoes vs. imaginary anticipation
Constant rotation producing one current moment
Presently captured via phonographic needle
Within which lies the truth
Others attempt to control your needle: manipulating the grooves, causing scratches and skips
Grooves left behind are no more ‘real’ than those ahead
Yet their traces affect the present groove
You can’t change the record with which
you were born but you can
take control of your own
needle as time drifts
ahead, the grooves
rotating faster
mirroring the
years
as
your record spins closer & closer to the center where the music stops and all content is left behind, replaced by a peaceful static