Early twenties, I was in this long-distance thing with a girl in Japan. Never went anywhere—distance was too big, life got too messy—but damn, we had something. Like, if the world had been smaller, maybe…

The real story? Not her. It was the sound. That 56k modem screech—scratchy, slow, perfect. I’d sit there, heart racing, waiting for the connect. Then bam—AOL IM would explode with her messages. Felt like home.

We drifted. No fight, no drama—just time. But that noise? Stayed. So I wrote the song around it. Not about love lost. About that stupid, warm feeling when the line clicked in.

If you listen close, you’ll hear it: every handshake I could fit—9600 baud, fax tones, the whole analog mess. Not random. Just… me trying to make music out of connection.

Still gets me. Like everything felt slower, simpler back then.