Where you are; what you are doing there. Serenity is a matter of perspective. The sun of late afternoon, it means exactly nothing good if you’re going down, if you can’t at the time tell which direction is up. Black boxes are actually orange.
You can’t even locate the sky, much less the sun of it. You point “up.” It’s an educated guess. You are underwater. You croon your neck around a compartment corner to shout for help. What does your station say, sir? Sir, that’s your domain, tell us, your station is flashing, sir. Hmm. Everything okay down there? Shout for help again. He dropped the “sir” that time. Are we sinking, sir? Yes, we are sinking, sir. Alarms now, or sirens. The control panel’s static: when it is silent, you are silent. Dead when it is dead. Alarms/sirens shut up: no mythology of man where men aren’t.
But if a tiny war is over, serenity, one can hear it now, emerges. You are flotsam. Others jumped. Jetsam. You survived. The sun of late afternoon is nice. The ocean without all those men on it; it is very peaceful and wow very nice. No one is here anymore. No one is doing anything here.
Sun of Late Afternoon is a cassette release by Icelandic musician and visual artist Sigtryggur Berg Sigmarsson. It is dedicated to The Old Man and the Sea, and it is available here via Hanson Records.