I never paid attention to them before. Too famous.
25 years later, I spent a whole Monday afternoon watching Yellow on loop with tears in my eyes.
I was hooked.
Here was this barefoot, teenage-looking Brit, walking along a grey beach in a too-big jacket, singing with a kind of shy sincerity:
“Look at the stars
Look at how they shine for you.”
I was hooked by the sincerity. The innocence.
The quiet, unpolished beauty of it.
It felt like seeing my own youth from a distance.
I’m in a raw, reflective, re-birthing phase.
This music mirrored that perfectly — soft, a bit lost, a bit in love with the world, even when it hurts.
25 years later, I finally heard it. And it heard me too.
I used to think days like this were wasted.
Now I think they’re where something real begins.
Perhaps I should write a song.
Maybe that’s how it starts.
