This was recorded a couple of weeks ago (does that make it disingenuous?). It was the early morning. I was alone and couldn’t sleep. I opened the doors overlooking the plaza and grabbed my old transistor radio, started with “SW1” and progressed through all of the short wave frequencies, was at 7000 feet plus and thought I could tune into the clouds, to the leftover thoughts of twenty million people, to the sunset of a day’s work, to the conversation of the rain’s most ardent supporters, to the daydreams of grandparents. I found myself immersed in the search, I was tuning the radio, not to a frequency, but to my own thoughts, to my desire to find meaning in a day’s work, to the rain that never came today, to the expectation of me that will never be realized, to the dreams of my dead grandparents, to all of those things that had me awake in the middle of the night in Mexico City. I couldn’t find any answers but before long I had a clear signal: Shortwave (click to listen).