Imagine me listening to these recordings. IV needle in the top of my hand. Headphones blaring. I always sit by the window. It’s beautiful out. Just a window away. Outside. Free. Not in there. Not with the needle. But out in the woods with my dog, with the tree that I like, that makes such a calming sound when the wind blows, and its leaves sort of sparkle too. That’s part of how this album was made. It seems dramatic or maybe tragic, but it’s not. Or more importantly, I don’t see it that way and I don’t intend for this music to be heard that way. It’s just the truth of what was happening in my life while I was recording these songs.