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I closed my laptop, walked a dozen steps, and plopped myself on the bed, when the words “I'm a big, big girl in a small, small world” appeared in my head, complete with a piano soundtrack. I didn’t know the artist, but a quick search led me to the song (earworm::Big Big World by Emilia) on YouTube. What amazes me is that I remembered the exact tune, the lyrics—everything was perfect in my memory.

A twinge of curiosity tugged at the edges of my thoughts. When had I last heard this song? I was confident I hadn’t heard it in the last decade—yet Last.fm told me otherwise: July 3, 2023. Hmm… Months had passed. What caused this song to resurface now, of all the countless tracks I’ve heard since then? And why now? I tried retracing my path through my thoughts. The thread vanished somewhere in the labyrinth of memory, a Theseus without Ariadne to guide me.

An hour later, I still didn’t know why the song sprang to life. I smiled, letting it be what it was: a fleeting, playful proof that thought and memory are never entirely ours to command. Maybe an errant misfiring synapse. Yet a reminder too, of some strange delights hidden in the quiet flicker of memory.

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When They All Looked Up by Kate Rusby from Spotify
This marks her first collection of brand-new material—outside of her beloved Christmas albums—in six years. Featuring a stunning mix of original compositions and reimagined traditional songs, the album showcases Kate’s signature warmth, storytelling, and unmistakable voice, which remains as breathtakingly beautiful as ever, even after 30-plus years in the industry.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

It's been a long while since I listened to an album without doing something else at the same time. Just sitting, doing nothing but listening.

After driving for eight hours, I was tired. I didn't want to take a nap. So I lay down on the bed, drew the blinds, switched off the lights, and wanted to simply relax.

While browsing Spotify, I realised I hadn’t listened to Kate Rusby’s latest album, When They All Looked Up, since it came out. I hit play and closed my eyes, letting the Barnsley Nightingale sing me into stillness.

Today Again reminded me why I started listening to her. I got the same goosebumps as when I first heard her sing. That song felt especially personal—a balm for my tired, restless soul. And when Let Your Light Shine played, I felt strangely at peace with everything.

I realised that while music has always been a constant background in my life, it’s been years since I simply sat down to listen—really listen—to an album.

As I trundled through my memories trying to think of any recent times that I listened to music for the sake of listening, I was bereft of any such memories. The only instance I could think of was listening to James Blunt whenever I have a headache; it seems to alleviate the pain though I'm not sure why.

When did I become too busy to spend an hour doing nothing but listen?