At first listen this seems like a track that would colorfully accompany a going-home memory sequence in an independent film taking place somewhere in the midwest. The opening distorted guitar plays less like a traditional rock-instrument and more like a wind chime ringing above a familiar porch seen through the hazy periphery of recollection. Much of the instrumentation of the track plays with this slight distortion, obscured alone but together providing a clear, pulsating emotion. Nate Lacey’s voice hits one’s ears like a sigh of relief, a soothing guide through the often unnavigable realm of nostalgia. The final minute or so of the song threw me for a bit of a loop. I easily implanted my own memories into the first half and saw the world through my own eyes, but the outro brought me out of that world and into another. The memories belonged to someone else (perhaps Lacy?) and now I, as the consumer of this art, was watching him move closer to home. I was watching him reflect. I no longer know what he is thinking, only what he looks like thinking it.