There’s got to be a better word for the exquisite sadness that engulfs me when certain songs I listened to in the past, now long gone, pop up in the random music mix on my computer or whatever digital device is playing in my studio at the time. I want to reach out to someone from my past, someone I shared that music with, and, I don’t know, hug them. Cry on their shoulder. Shake them when they don’t remember the feelings I’m feeling or don’t share the same sense of significance that the sounds represent to me. Then I remember I’m alone and always have been. Living a solo life inside my own mind, with my own memories and sorrows and ecstasies. Nostalgia—the longing for or thinking fondly of a past time or condition—doesn’t even begin to describe my condition at such times.