If anyone wonders about the old music I choose, well, growing up I didn't have a lot of friends, moved a lot, lots of new schools. But I had a radio. Music was my best friend. Then I grew up. No time for new music. Only the comfort of the old, when the world seemed new, a magical place, my life ahead of me instead of drowned to death in the sorrows of the everyday.

Or I'm held hostage in a time bubble that refuses to embrace the present.

Is it magical? I'm on a magical mystery tour. I keep forgetting because I keep focusing on the heaviness instead of the delicate dance underneath. The dance is out of sight yet nothing is closer. Please dance with me.