In my adolescence and early adulthood, I could barely contemplate a life without music. Each Saturday I would traipse an hour to my nearest CD store, and spend nearly as much time browsing the aisles before returning home with my new purchases. I could spend hours lying on my bed, headphones over my ears and notebook in hand, as I deciphered every line of lyrics.
As time wore on, music slowly became a soundtrack to other activities, played in the background through the tinny speakers of my iPhone as I washed the dishes, cleaned the bathroom, or folded the laundry.
