i’m sitting outside a small coffee shop
in the north of italy.
next to me an older italian man
with his dog, not fully grown yet.
or at least it looks that way.
he talks.
i don’t understand a word.
it doesn’t matter.
someone stops to pet the dog.
then another.
then another.
the dog tries to howl.
almost
i order another coffee.
and stay.
same spot as yesterday
same time
same cough
and the same waitress
i greet her
she smiles
nice to see you again
music in the street
there’s music in the streets.
an older italian man in a suit rolled his upright through the streets.
i don’t know any of the songs.
maybe it’s improvised
or just so much music i haven’t had the honour to hear yet.
a little out of tune.
it has probably seen as much as the player.
he plays the white keys only.
i’ve set up my gear
in a bar next door.
five older german ladies waiting for me to play.
the stage set.
my clothes the dirtiest pieces in here.
but for now
i would rather stay in the heat.
sitting on those overheated cobblestones.
play for strangers.
right now.
right here.
i hear a new song.
39
There is a website that lets you check if your music has been used to train AI.
39 tracks.
39 songs I’ve written, recorded, released.
39 entries in a database.
It’s a strange feeling.
For an AI model, 39 songs are nothing.
A tiny drop in an ocean of training data.
Barely noticeable.
But for me, those 39 tracks feel a little different.
They’re not data.
They’re stories.
39 moments.
39 versions of myself.
Some were written during beautiful times.
Some during difficult ones.
Some took years to finish.
Others arrived all at once.
A song about love.
A song about leaving.
A song written in a tiny apartment.
A song written on the road far from home.
A song that nobody heard.
A song that reached millions.
To a machine, they’re audio files. bits and bytes.
To me, they’re pieces of a life.
Writing songs is still one of the most beautiful things I know.
Sitting down with a guitar.
Staring out a window.
Trying to make sense of something.
Finding a sentence that feels true.
Finding a melody that didn’t exist five minutes ago.
39 tracks.
A tiny drop in an ocean.
An entire life to me.
the lake is still.
no waves.
no people.
a few cows rest in the shade, somewhere in the distance.
it could be peaceful.
it could be heaven.
it could be.
it could.
the train is speeding up.
leaving the station.
you stay there.
some flowers in your hand.
i try to look away.
but i never could.