Since I was in my teens, I’ve been collecting books, music, movies, and I’ve come to realise that, bar the occasional cull, once an object finds its place on a shelf in my flat, that’s usually where it stays.

It feels like now’s a good time to take a closer look at what’s on the shelf.

This is as much about rediscovering the bits of my life that are packed away inside these DVD or cassette boxes, as it is about reviewing or reappraising the contents on their own merits.

But it’s more than an exercise in nostalgia. I’ve gotten to a place now where I feel mostly untouched by music, by film, by most art in fact, where once I was moved very deeply, and very often. I’d like to remember what it felt like to be moved in that way. And I’d like once again to be moved by music, by words, by art, the way I used to be.

These essays are more subjective reckonings than critical analyses – they are personal reflections on the film and songs and artists themselves, and the place they hold in my life. The process of writing may unlock particular associations, or rekindle memories of the people in my life at that time, or remind me where and who I was when I first watched or listened at the time (or times) these works moved me the most.

If you share any of my enthusiasm, please let me know in the comments.

Thanks for reading.