Pretend you are a baby and very tired but simultaneously very fascinated by your new universe, thus at a loss about whether you should sleep or just glaze over and stare at your own toes because, Holy shit you have toes. Then imagine you got a crazy mobile. It's got colors and wind chimes and the light reflects off it and it spins, but never in too many full circles because that would get boring. This mobile is a microcosm of all of the earth's natural wonders. There is the pounding stream of rivers, the thin air of mountaintops, the green grass of pastures, the warm silk of a horse's coat. You're there, you're fucking in there little baby you, right in morning Scotland—you're running with hunting dogs and the dew is fading and the sun creaked up above the horizon and there's a crack and it's your bone, you've fallen against a rock you missed in your furious pursuit. There's pain but there's so much light. You've never been so alone before but it's surprisingly serene. Who could have imagined there was so much time and space in such a stockpiled world, people buzzing around into each other like cockroaches. You're alone and it hurts acutely, but you're a baby. You know it's not real but you haven't yet figured out what reality is. So you cry, and, now sharp, you see this mobile for what it is, a bunch of cheap plastic that just hums a tiny bit. But you know now it's your portal and you stop crying because, as you are just beginning to learn, there is always understanding in ambiance. Anyway, that's what listening to this Black to Comm album is like. Thanks for sending us this link yesterday, Simon. In a cold world it's nice to have caring friends.