As the van came to a stop outside Theo’s house and he began to collect his gardening tools together, I found myself by the seaside — looking out at rock pools from a promenade, aged around seven years old. A vivid memory triggered by the music that I was playing in the van to soundtrack our trip home. I’d been listening to John Adams for most of the day… most of the week come to think of it, and I’d been enjoying the space that his music left for my thoughts. That music and that memory hadn’t been connected until that moment, but something about the way the music was making me feel took me back to that place on the north-east coast of England where I had once stood, deep in the past. I could hear the seagulls overhead and taste the cool salty air on my lips.
Theo was talking to me as he was gathering his things and whilst I tried to remain present and polite, I wasn’t really there. I wiped the sea spray from my forehead and managed to say goodbye to him before he shut the door. I drove myself home with John Adams still providing the soundtrack and fully immersed myself in the sound, the place and the feeling. I was becoming aware of a new ability that would allow me to transport myself fully and instantly to different times and places at will — like those rock pools that I had carefully clambered over as a child, or other similar power-places that hummed the right tune. A powerful realisation of who I was and who I am washed over me - an instant unpeeling of the layers of whatever it was that had caused me to forget. I felt happy and excited and full of wonder.
When I got home I felt the need to organise my collections of maps, unused notebooks and stationery. I had a feeling that these items were becoming important. A voice inside me whispered something about going on a trip, a journey, and that we would be needing these things along the way...
