E major G Sharp Minor F Sharp Minor A Minor
The glossy base of the old guitar is cracking and thin. The strings are tuned too tight and a suspicious rattle occurs with every forceful strum. Like most things, the vagabond guitar is not meant to last forever. I still love it dearly.
When the sea was changing its course and the world dared to swallow me whole, the soft ringing and squeal of that small guitar moved me to tears. I spent hours fiddling around and playing the usual suspects: G-strum-C-strum-E minor-strum. I’m sure there are about a dozen Air Supply songs written with that same progression.
I used to watch the reflection of colors changing on the pale spectrum of my wall and wondered if I could ever interpret the colors into sound. E, G#m, F#m, Am… those lonesome chords fell out of me. Thank you, my vagabond. I can still smell your must on my fingers but your wailing let me express something that had a hefty weight but no voice to rebuke it with.