I haven’t been able to get this song out of my head since rewatching that claustrophobic Black Mirror episode with the dystopian version of America’s Got Talent. (1/4)

I usually have two or three songs stuck in my head at a given time, and while the songs swap out, their presence is constant. (2/4)

I first realized this on a meditation retreat: the usual thoughts had slowed to a fleeting presence, like the occasional car on a rural road, but the imprint of songs — even those I hadn’t heard in months — was stronger than ever. (3/4)

They were just buried deep, is all — like the dead leaves that poke through melting snow in spring. (4/4)