it feels weird tonight. i’m listening to the last elliott smith album, the posthumous one.

so gorgeous. i take myself back to the time when i heard about him and i first listened to his music. seems like ages ago. when it seemed impossible that he could ever die. not now, not then, not so young, not so talented.
tonight, i feel like a voyeur — and i suppose it would be all the same had i bought the album — and i’m not sure why. like these beautiful songs don’t belong to us in any way. maybe they don’t. maybe they’ll just float around us like lost souls. i don’t know. maybe i’ll just keep shivering throughout the night and maybe i’ll forget that his voice seems to come to me from another world…
it always did anyway.

dire un truc ?