A great song somehow finds a way to transcend the apparently insurmountable limitations of its form, and reveals a secret world that you suspect only you and the composer share. Meaning is never what it appears to be on the surface, and whether it's the instrumentation, vocal delivery, or intangible feel of the music, it can take one to a strange space that we never otherwise see in our waking moments. Sometimes, when reminded of a particularly favourite lyric, and unable to express the feelings it induces, I feel as though I've been bequeathed something very special. How odd that someone's thoughts and words, expressed in a few minutes' worth of music, should trigger a reaction in someone born a generation later, someone living in an altogether different world. I wonder if I am meant to do something with these keepsakes, put them to some use beyond the pleasure they give me. My humblest response and offering is an attempt to facsimile my internal processes when the music hits me; in hopes partly of reaching to other wanderers who may have stumbled onto the shared secret, but mostly to pay some respect to the spirits that created them, so that some part of them may live forever.