Have you ever felt like memories were yours because someone you loved spoke of them so often? This album is like that. It causes deja vu.
I have flashbacks of laying on my stomach in shag carpet beside my mother as a young woman, elbows dug into the ground and propping up our hands that hold chubby cheeks tired from grinning ear to ear. Our legs, bent 90 degrees toward the ceiling, kicking back and forth in idle curiosity with a flexibility we only get for a short time, a symptom of sumptuously careless youth.
These memories aren’t mine but they sure are real when I listen to this album. And song, in particular, makes me miss my mother more than ever.
Nostos Algos 