Dun Laoghaire, Ireland. 10pm

 Hey solitude

I know it’s been so long
Since we saw each other last

I’m sure we’ll find some way

To make the time pass

10 pm. It must have been a Friday night or a Wednesday. I can’t think straight about this one. It could have been on the weekend. You never really know when you’re working shifts in hospitality. Days are nights. Weekdays are weekends. However, my bones know that it was after a late shift. A lonely one in Dun Laoghaire.

Yes, I was working in Ireland, living five minutes away from the seaside. A strong companionship was needed. And there they were. The moon, round and white, suspended in the sky. I was fine by myself, leaving behind an abusive manager and an invasive roommate. Both had power over me at that time. I could finally own this moment for myself.

The weight of my long red coat comforted me, like the arms of some lover. Yes, I could have used a hug or a goodnight kiss. But the dark sky was already stretching its arms around my neck as soon as this thought crossed my mind. The wind gently pushed me towards the edge, so close to the stormy sea that I thought this one, too, was being invasive. It was not. The elements were reaching for oneness. I felt the quality of a marine night.

‘Hey Moon’ came through my earphones like a sweet treat for myself. I was a speck, a microscopic portion wrapped in a gigantic cloth of stars. Intimacy always comes with solitude. It makes you naked, fully in touch with those we’re most familiar with. Lovers, friends, relatives. We too quickly take for granted what days and nights are made of. Sometimes we find ourselves looking up at the ceiling while lying on the bed as if we were seeing it for the first time.

“Be careful, he’s pressuring you on purpose so he can cut time off your paycheck,” a colleague told me. I thought of the rent I wouldn’t be able to afford by the end of the month. He was making me mop 30 square metres in 10 minutes even though I still had an hour ahead of me. I shook my head at him. “Sure you can,” he added, frowning.

That same colleague told me that she cried on Thursday night because he made her clean and scrub the cold room for so long that her lips were dry by the end of her shift. My heavy red coat was shaken by bursts of wind. This image comes alive in my mind so vividly, as if I were someone following myself down the hill. Nothing is too cinematic for our imagination. If the universe shows no limits, our minds should expand to the point of defying entropy.

Now, let me tell you something. I thought of countless people while listening to this music. Not that any of them was unique to me. But the truth is, John Maus wrote one of the most universal songs I’ve ever come across. The kind that makes you feel solid on your feet, grounded to your deepest roots. I forgot the slippery floor I left behind. The trivial tasks of my daily existence. Dirty dishes and unhappy customers. I forgot the rush, our fast-paced world. I remembered your voice, although your words have faded over time. Social anxiety subsides as the moon takes over the sun. I kind of prefer its shift. But gosh, this song could put anyone to sleep with the certainty of being in good company.

Hey moon

It’s just you and me tonight
Everyone else is asleep

Hey moon, if I was to fall
I won’t fall so deep
Though I doubt I’m gonna

  

#Stereo Story 880

John Maus is touring Australia in late April and early May. More details.

 

Marie-Sophie Giudicelli is a French artist who has spent over a decade writing and directing short films and documentaries. She recently wrote her first feature film script in Ireland. She has a Master's degree in Literature and Cinema. During her time living in Melbourne, Australia, she began writing poetry in English and performing it on stage across the city.