Franco Battiato The Platinum Collection !!install!! -

The record store was a dying thing, smelling of dust, old paper, and the faint ghost of cigarette smoke from a decade ago. Leo ran his finger along the spines of the CDs, looking for nothing in particular. He was a man who collected silences now, not music. His wife had left in the spring, taking the sonos and the upbeat playlists with her. All that remained in his apartment was a cheap CD player and a void.

“ Ti proteggerò dalle paure delle ipocondrie, ” she translated softly one night. “ I will protect you from the fears, from the hypochondria… ” franco battiato the platinum collection

He took the record, held it like a treasure map. And for the first time in a very long time, he turned on the stereo not to escape the world, but to invite someone into it. The record store was a dying thing, smelling