[ I CAN HEAR MYSELF FROM THE INTERCOM THOUGH I DO NOT SPEAK ] Upward spirals, rockets, what I imagine would happen if you rode upon a beam of light from a torch shone up into the night sky one time during a childhood trip from which I remember nothing besides this torch, the fascination with light itself– I’m sorry, I’m not making much sense. It’s just this song. I think there’s something wrong with it. Or no, not wrong, no, I’m confused, it’s–