It’s taken a year to finish this saga, but here, finally, is the last installment. The nail in the coffin. It’s a wide-ranging, half-hour compilation of most of the complex emotions I felt during my last week studying abroad in the Middle East last spring. I had become dear friends with people that I might never see again, and in the process, I had fallen in with a way of life, a new culture, that I knew I couldn’t take with me.
The inspiration for the title comes from the idea of the archivist in the postmodern world. She alone holds the keys to the knowledge and invaluable insights of thinkers throughout history, but she too is removed from experiencing the value of the collection in its true form, instead only dully categorizing it in the vast archive of the neglected, dust-gathering library caché. I am no master of the human artistic condition, but I try to contribute in what way I can. In a show of macabre humour, I thought to myself: is this song – by all measures a great achievement for me – going to collect dust, doomed just as is the rest of art throughout history?
And I realized that unless I shared it with someone else, the answer would be yes. So here you have it.