Genius may be as mindstopping as loss, but in a different way.
When Maud was about eleven or twelve, and we were living in a railroad apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, with Bodhi and Scout, I sat her down at the table and said it’s time for you to hear this: Blue. I can’t remember, exactly, but I think the only thing I had to play the album on was a Discman. She sat there, my little Maud, and listened to the whole thing through, and she got it. She just got it: the simple genius that changes you upon hearing.
California, coming home.