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You're Nobody's Producer

The glow of the old school CRT monitor cast an almost sacred light on our faces, and later the Philips TV, the screen for a digital aurora in the box-room. I remember the specific thrum of the PlayStation, the click of its disc drive, and the rhythmic, almost hypnotic sequence of button presses as I meticulously layered beats and melodies. This was for his GCSE music project, a task he’d presented with a shrug and an almost imperceptible plea for help. He didn't do or say much; he rarely did. He just sat there, knees pulled up to his chest on the floor, watching me, a silent, still observer as I sculpted a rudimentary track from the limited palette of an early 2000s music creation game. His presence was like a barely perceptible hum in the room, a quiet witness to the genesis of something out of nothing. I remember thinking, in that precise moment, that he was involved. Not creatively, not actively, but his quiet watchfulness, his unblinking gaze, felt like a silent endorsement, ...
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The Birdie Song Unplugged



I couldn't believe it. The once-serene and dignified atmosphere of my living room was now consumed by the undignified and frenzied dance of The Birdie Song. A group of five young girls, clad in neon tutus and feather boas, were twisting and leaping around the room, their little bodies moving in sync to the cheery, infectious tune. I watched, both amused and annoyed, as they flapped their arms like wings and shook their behinds with reckless abandon.
As if on cue, the youngest of the group, a curly-haired girl no more than six years old, skipped over to me and tugged at my pant leg. "Come on, Auntie Liz! Join us!" she exclaimed, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief.
I couldn't resist her eager pleading, so with a sigh, I got up from my armchair and joined the dancing frenzy. For a few moments, I let go of my worries and just bopped along with the girls, feeling their carefree energy infuse my body. And as we reached the chorus, I couldn't help but smile and join in on the lyrics, "With a little bit of this, and a little bit of that, and a shake your bum!"
Before I knew it, the song was over and the girls were scampering off to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room, breathless and grinning like a fool. But for those few minutes, I had forgotten all about the stress and responsibilities of adult life. I had let myself be swept away by the simple joy of a silly song and a child's innocent request. And as I sank back into my armchair, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the reminder to let loose and enjoy the little things in life.

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