I am still having trouble thinking of a name.
I always find naming a new piece hard, and this is no different.
Sorrow tree or weeping willow or glade of grey are all things that touch on the feeling I want.
But they only touch.
They do not strike with any real degree of accuracy.
I think the music will be fairly happily seated along the melancholic or nostalgic side of things. Sad it will not be. I don't think that melancholy or nostalgia neccisarily mean sadness. More.... a greyness of feeling. How you feel after reading Beckett or Beaudrillard.
The 'vision' (for want of a better word) that I have of this is somewhere along the lines of a large (infinite) grey field of all the trinkets and trifles of a lifetime. And the music is as like the ghost (or embodiment) of all the thoughts associated with the bits and bobs that lie there. The music floats through the field of junk and looks at these, the last remaining remnants of a life. And no one there to see them. No on there to care, not that caring would matter.
A claustrophobic agoraphbiae. Trapped in infinity.
Not sad. Not angry or happy or alone.
Just.
Grey.