Corrina Repp – I’ll Walk You Out
I spent the better part of the other night intermittently listening to music, then stepping outside for a few minutes and just listening to the night. My brother’s house has an ocean view, which is quite impressive from the right vantage point as it’s not the typical Aussie beachfront I’m used to (flat sand and hundreds of people milling about). From the back garden, all I can see is hills, rocks, rooftops and then the vast expanse of the sea¹. There are wheat ships lined up in a row on the horizon, and they glow like small lanterns after dark.
It’s a quiet area at night (most of the time), and it’s nice to take a moment just to listen to the turn of the world when it’s dark, from a different space and perspective.
It may sound odd, but sometimes the noise of the world feels like it’s on a frequency I’m not in tune with. Darkness and music each bring a certain quiet² with them, creating a space around and between those things that is necessary for me to feel like I’m in the right space.
I had my headphones plugged into my laptop with my library set to shuffle, and came in from that view, ships and streetlights glowing and metal windchimes ringing faintly, to find this song playing. It struck me as being perfect at that moment.
1. My camera is in storage so I took several photos with my phone, but none of them turned out very well. Cameras, sometimes unfortunately, don’t look at things the same way people do, and no matter how I positioned it, I couldn’t get the eye of the camera to focus on the same thing I was, thus I ended up with many – blurry – photos of tiny grey patches of sea sandwiched between treetops and cloudy sky, such as the one above (which has been filtered).
2. Which here means calm or still, as opposed to silent.