Someone I know let out a metaphorical cheer on Facebook in celebration that they were able to slide in to a dress they'd dreamed of wearing for several months.

It's obvious they're delighted; every word they've written is starburst of joy. A plan, when it comes off is an intoxicant all of it's own that defies proper articulation. It's a sense thing, an intangible asset of indefinable value.

I've been in a similar frame of mind. Something inexplicable prompted me to listen to a Roxy Music's Greatest Hits album that I'd stumbled on when I was fishing around for background music to cook lunch to.

How to tumble backwards through time. Just the faintest breath of a melody, the murmur of a line, and it's sometime in the small hours of a Winter's day in the early '80s, and I'm laying in bed with Julia, the two of us talking softly, or perhaps not at all, wrapped up in our private cocoon, Roxy humming quietly around us.

I might have forgotten I'd ever had that life if not for randomly excavating Roxy Music today.