I love the way the light hits the record player at 7:15, in through the window, bouncing off the wood and right at me.

It’s most victorious for about 2 minutes, a beacon in the corner that reminds me of the fleeting nature of every day, and my infatuation with glimmers.

This tiny, beautiful piece. This familiar, hopeful note.

Before the needle ever drops, only while I can catch it, and after I’ve stopped to take a look.

I love the way the light hits the record player at 7:15.