Damages: Part Two – Tasting Color

Most people think of memory as a file they can open.
For me, it’s a doorway.

I don’t just remember things… I re-enter them.

This is synesthesia. And it’s not metaphor. It’s how my body works.

I taste music.
I feel emotions as texture on my skin.
I store memory not as narrative, but as layered sensory maps…
Colors. Sounds. Smells. Body pressure. Spatial temperature.

It’s not poetic… it’s literal.
The taste of a breakup. The shape of someone’s voice.
The texture of a lie in the room, even if nothing was said.

Some people call it “cross-wired senses.” That’s not wrong.
But for me, it’s more like… my nervous system didn’t sort things into folders.
It just kept stacking everything in one place.

And because of that, nothing fades.
Everything stays vivid.

First-person memory re-entry

Here’s what most people don’t realize…
When I remember something, I don’t recall it as “that thing that happened.”
I re-feel it… full-body… first-person.

This is where synesthesia and time distortion hook together.

I can’t just think about the past… I am the past, when it comes back.
The sheets from that night? Still in my skin.
The color of that silence? Still hanging in the air.
I can still taste the smoke. Still smell the kitchen.
It’s not nostalgia. It’s sensory possession.

How this shaped Damages

This is why Damages isn’t just an album… it’s a mapped memory system.
Every song is built from synesthetic recall.
The structure of the tracks mirrors how those memories live in my body.

If something was rough and bitter, the drums grind.
If something was delicate but haunting, the reverb mimics breath on the back of my neck.
The chords aren’t just tonal… they’re emotional textures.
They feel like the moment tasted.

I’m not composing.
I’m reconstructing something that already existed… in sensory form.

Why this matters

If you’ve ever had a memory come back so fast it knocked the wind out of you…
If you’ve ever walked into a room and felt something was off before you knew why…
You already speak my language.

The difference is:
You might pass through that moment.
I stay in it, until it lets go.

That’s the core of Damages.
It’s not an album built from reflection.
It’s an album built from contact.