The turbulence began the moment we entered American airspace, crossing from New Brunswick into Maine. The airplane shuddered and rocked. We fastened our seatbelts. It was hard not to read this as an omen.

I find myself searching for cosmic meaning whenever I’m on a turbulent airplane. I’m filled with a sudden belief in fate, full-bodied vibrations of doom, and a craving for god. Then the air grows calm and I return to gazing into a screen.

Slow-motion guitars that sound like they’re holding the world together even when everything feels like it’s falling apart.