Whirr
Around

An unmade bed. All that remains of her is an unmade bed. If I lie down and smell the pillow, I can still catch the scent of her hair, her skin. Now, at three in the morning, all I can do is stand and watch the silent city from the window.

The seductive, filtered voice of Whirr tears my heart apart, the guitars that seem to go in slow motion shock me. Listening to the four long tracks of "Around" is like floating in the darkness of a starless sky. Shoegaze and post-rock blend, merge in a union of love and passion. We were like that too, always united, embracing each other. Inseparable.

In my room, the powerful and rattling sound of "Drain" echoes. Here, the fury of the former guitarist of Deafheaven is felt, desolate and angry. Outside, everything is silent. I can see the road in the distance, which looks like a red river on one side and white on the other. Cars speeding by without knowing that I'm watching them. Drivers and truckers unaware that from up here I can see them as they rush away. Come here to me, I'm cold she would have said if things had turned out differently. Come here give me your warmth. How lovely it was to lie by her side and watch her as she slept. She was stunning, with her luscious red lips, her long black hair, and those freckles on her nose. How much I loved reading to her some passages from Kundera's novel, "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," and hearing her say you have a sexy voice, you should be a voice actor. Come back to me, I think now as I'm enveloped by the round, noise-laden sound of "Swoon". Come back to me, I promise this time it will be better. I promise everything will be more beautiful. I'm not sleepy, and ten floors below me there are few people wandering alone. People like me who cannot sleep, or simply don't want to close their eyes. Dreaming would be like hurting oneself, dreaming of her would destroy me.

I spot in "Keep" a style that resembles my best friend's band, a style akin to My Bloody Valentine and Mogwai, and my mind drifts back to January, when we went to their concert downtown. It was freezing, almost no one inside the venue. She and I sat at a table with a pint of Guinness in our hands applauding and encouraging our friends who were playing, and they weren't even bad in the end. It was the guitarist, my childhood friend, who recommended this album to me. You'll see, it's a blast, he told me. And when it comes to music, he's always right. These Whirr are damn good. I open my laptop and go on Facebook. I'd like to delete my account, it was she who insisted I sign up, and I did it reluctantly. I search her personal page and read her latest post: thanks love for the wonderful day, you're amazing. Below a single laconic comment from a guy I don't know. I love you, he wrote. Who the hell is this? I hit the keyboard so hard I hurt my hands. I look back out the window. The streetlights all lined up look like orange soldiers come to get me. Lock me up somewhere, I'll be better there. I don't want to see this bed, this room anymore. I clench my fists, my knuckles turn white, and my nails dig into the palm of my hand.

The Whirr album ends as it began, with dream pop tinged with darkness in the long "Around". A romantic and sad song, slow and soft. I leave the house, I need air. I take all the stairs on foot, my steps echo in the building. Outside, the air is fresh, I start walking. I want to forget her, I want to move on and start again. In fact, I have to. No bars open at this hour. Everyone is sleeping, lying next to their women, or their men. I, alone, put the headphones in my ears. I start the Whirr album from the beginning, once more. Music in the end is my only lifeline, the only thing that keeps me from going crazy, that calms me. I take my phone and send a message to my friend. Thanks for introducing me to Whirr, I write, they're great. Send. Then I scroll through all my contacts in the address book. There it is, her name. She's still there. I delete her number. It's time to start all over again, it's time to leave the pain behind and restart from here. You never know when, suddenly, someone enters your life and makes you fall in love. Just like the band I'm listening to, they suddenly crashed into my life, by pure chance.