Cassette Tape and Print
When Steven and I first met, he courted me with cassette tapes he’d filled with music, created and recorded just for me. When we were apart, I’d listen to them alone in my room and lament being catastrophically in love for the first time in my life. I’d never felt such a feeling before and likely never will again. At least, not quite like that.
At the time, it felt like I wished his existence into being. I doled out my life to him, and he dissolved me. I think I needed him more than anything I could have seen or imagined on this earth.
Now that he’s gone from this reality, it feels as though his obsession with analog equipment and waves of sound left a piece of himself in this world. Something that bridges the gap between our planes, somehow.
So, I lit a candle and read The Stages of Rot for him aloud, into a cassette recorder. Celina put them on tapes. Perhaps he can hear my message; this unflagging signal broadcasting across an abyss of noise.
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