25ºF outside, I found myself driving back to Manhattan on the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk when the day exhales in a last glow of grayish violet light on the horizon. “In My Room” came on in my car. Ouch.
I daydream and write songs about those fleeting moments where the moment itself cradles you in enough. Life is enough. This city is enough. My past and future are enough. I am enough.
If I were pinned to pick just one feeling to infuse into my art, there it was before my eyes painted on the buildings and welling up within me, teetering between B and A. Cradled within the incandescence of twilight and what else could matter.