Going Home

The strains of Suzanne Vega's Luka is playing in the background now, as I find myself suddenly gripped by an incomprehensible melancholy. It is just one of those periods of my life that can only be described as a black mood.

Is it the music that brings out the dark cloud, or does the shadow make me gravitate to these songs? I cannot answer, nor do I care to make the attempt.

Sigh.