Sunday, 18 November 2012


Everyone of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That's what part of it means to be alive. But inside our heads - at least that's where I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in a library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in a while, let fresh air in, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you'll live forever in your own private library.

Thom Yorke - Identiket: Harrowdown Hill (extended mix) 

I have been inspired by too many indies of late. Living like careless nomads with no sense of the mainstream world. Love it.

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