Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Playlists, the buoys of time past

A playlist. A sequence of songs. Alone each song is like a single atom. As a list, each one is a constitutive piece of a molecular structure. A structure that has a coherence earned by whatsoever circumstance made it be there. Perhaps chronological order in a local manner. A chronology that tells a story of a place and a time with a code to unravel a private hidden meaning. A list of sounds that makes a particular neighbour of an event to be attached to a given portion of experience.

Playlists labelled by time. They remind me of the different lives I have had. They are an anchor to past times, the memories I often disregard unless that sequence revives them in the intertwined circuits of mammal memory.

A travel in the subjective time of the closing eyes, the cold of the night and shining stars. Sitting on my chair changing locations, building the architecture of those places where those sounds where first invoked. Wiring all those remembrances and feelings of a selected year sliced with a sharp blade: when I couldn't go home for Christmas, when I was in a luxury apartment, when I was writing my dissertation, when I was sharing the house, when I was lacking money, when I was in a hotel room, when I was at the airport, when I was alone, when I was longing to go back home, when I was camping on a starry night, when I was drinking beer at a bar in a grandiose city.

Playlists as sentences of information, keeping the causality of events encoded in the succession of sounds. It never ends. Time machines of memory transportation. As long as they exist they will keep being the door to other times, as steps in a ladder that is only traversed in one direction, the direction of the unknown future.

The future, the only territory worth travelling to. Mapped and marked linearly in a smooth composition of random melodies, as a personal clock ticking forward at rates demanded by the mood of emotion. Always going ahead, as it is the only way our perception allows us to experience the progression of our own lives.

Photo: "The persistence of Memory" by Salvador DalĂ­

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