Dean Stevenson

Musician | Songwriter | Composer

Here, isolation is quiet.

Here in my place of self, my studio in the roof where dreams combat poor habits, I think of nothing in particular. Which is the greatest threat to me at the present time.

Language has triumphed again as the returning warrior after a long absence. In global lock-down from Covid 19 we gobble down language. We revel in news from authorities, find new shock in more closures than we’ve witnessed in our lifetime and yet, here in my home town, we lack the image of someone who has the virus. 

So now, in my rooftop, I will seek the astounding and the simple. A way to tune in to the best of myself in what may be the last great absent period of my life. I could be here for months. Making…?

Stay tuned. (That was directed at me more than you).

A symphony? Who listens anymore. Maybe now!

A book. I am yet to learn the skills. I may now have enough time!

A garden? Yes. 

Clean the house. Again.

Fall deeper in love and relax. Yes. And yes again. Love and kindness will be the way to everything listed and forgotten above. 

Breathe. Breathe in the air. Don’t be afraid to care.