This is my tribute to all the ghosts.
To the whispers in cracked halls, the reels forgotten in dusty drawers,
the breath of vinyl circling endless night.
A lament without words, only frequencies,
stitched together from silence and memory.
Echoes of what never quite was,
and what still lingers, between the static.
Tune in, not to hear, but to feel.
This medley is not for the living.
— Maximilian Jasper Jones