A Life Of Salt and Rain ©

The story — in my words

I wrote this on a particularly brutal Tuesday morning when the dampness of the Pacific Northwest felt like it was actually seeping into my bones. I was staring at this old cedar chest I’d carried through three different apartments, realizing it was just a coffin for a version of myself that didn't exist anymore. We cut the vocals in a single take because I wanted to capture that raw, shaky feeling of your knees hitting a cold floor at 6:00 AM. It’s a song about the physical weight of memory—how sometimes you have to let the elements destroy what you can’t bring yourself to throw away. Walking away from the salt and rain wasn't an act of anger; it was just the only way I could finally start breathing again.