By the time I walked out into Colin's backyard, despite an ominous forecast, it was probably the clearest night of the week, the sky glowing in shades of indigo I'd never seen. I couldn't help but think of how we used to talk about driving out to the countryside and spending the night watching the summer constellations. An opportunity wasted, or just a narrative end to something that can never quite be over? Transient songs about leaving and feeling desperate for moving, but the words are unchanging and you are unchanging and I am unchanging.