‘That is fifty cents’.

I count on the desk. One can now recognize me at the circuit Jan Vink in Sint-Michielsgestel. That boy who always comes along for CDs and LPs. Really, I think that’s really fun. Endless searching in the bins with CDs. Time and again, because those bins with CDs are also supplemented with new stock. Faded glory. Discarded artists from the eighties. Heroes from then who now camp in the old people’s home.

What would be the story of those CDs? Who were the owners? How often has that CD been played? While the listener listened to it with passion? Or did it set up as background music? Or was it a misplaced birthday present and was the CD used as a coaster? I’m curious about those stories. And so many CDs gives a lot to fantasize about.
When I concentrate, I seem to hear them between the sounds of the music. The cd covers are still in the plastic or half piece. Instructions for intensive use, or not. Via the fingerprints on the CDs you can even find out who they were, those former owners. Or is that going too far? I see a whole bunch of CDs from one artist. Suddenly no fan anymore? Or, a death and the family who has to empty a house and who can not appreciate that artist?
I think I’m looking for recognition. A CD that I used to play as LP. A sound from the past. Like a song like New Years Day from U2. Just like in the clip, my friends and I went through a snowy forest in the middle of the winter.

The CDs in the racks of the cycle are quite mixed up. Frans Bauer side by side with Michael Jackson and Pavarotti. Sometimes on his side, so that the leaves are difficult. I scan quietly and have fun when I see a CD that is worthwhile for me.

Now I am at the counter, with the fifty cents in my hand. This time it is Luck of the Draw, by Bonnie Riatt. What a fantastic voice she has. And my favorite song ‘I can not make you love me’ is also on it. I know the song earlier from the interpretation of Adele, but Bonnie Riatt is actually better.
Back in the car I blow the volume to great heights. Her voice, that piano, it creates a warm, melancholic atmosphere. Which is reinforced by the fall of the red and yellow autumn leaves. The sounds fall like leaves from the sky. It reminds me of a painting in which blocks whiz along like info, past my place on the world. It suddenly snow leaves while I send my car home along the Brabant roads.

She sings:
Turn down the lights
Turn down the bed
Turn down these voices inside my head

And I feel good. Small happiness that is so accessible. For fifty cents in the circuit.


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