The happy place

I used to really love Sigur Rós, think it sounded mesmerising and soothing and even I could listen to it when falling asleep, but now I think it sounds like a tormented cat with pianos and shit. I can’t enjoy it.

Something has changed inside of me, apparently, and that’s a fun fact and it’s like opening a door inside of you but nothing is there anymore or something else is there that wasn’t there before, or doors which used to be empty inside now contains something new, and suddenly you like pesto but not Sigur Rós.

There are doors you keep shut and doors you couldn’t open if your life depended on it.