This is just one of those ramblings. Let's see where it goes.

There's a particular kind of music that doesn't ask you to feel anything. It just lets you feel. Boards of Canada has always done that for me. Their tracks have this way of reaching into whatever hour you're awake in and making it feel like the right one.

I used to lie on my bed at night and imagine the future like a photograph I could almost see. It was simple then, the shape of it anyway. A small apartment, maybe a dog, the kind of quiet that feels like belonging. Dreams that fit inside the space between you and the ceiling.

But there's something they don't tell you about becoming thirty..or thirty five. The dreams don't get bigger. They get stranger. More specific. The quiet becomes harder to hold.

I don't sleep to this kind of music anymore the way I used to. Now I listen to it while I'm awake, remembering what it felt like to drift off thinking the future was something you could understand. These days I know better. Life isn't simple. It's messier and realer than anything I could have imagined from that bed.

But the music still works. It still reaches you. And maybe that's enough. Not having the answers, but having something that makes the questions feel less lonely.

This cover is my small thank you to that sound. To the electronic duo who made it. To whoever needs to hear something like this at two in the morning, or three, or whenever you're remembering what it felt like to be younger.