Placed strategically in front of the futon couch, illuminated by the yellow cone of the lone floor light I owned, was the black majesty of the heart of the apartment. Clean, sleek stereo components all meticulously researched and purchased with a singular purpose of providing life-supporting nutrients to both the world at large and me.
One’s eye couldn’t help but be drawn to the compact yet sturdy shelving unit that was as important as any alcove in the most pious abbey. Rather than candles or frescoes, a Yamaha YP-D8 turntable sat neatly on a shelf above a Sony STR-DN1020 amp and receiver and a Harman Kardon HD 990 CD player. A place for everything: the meticulously clean lint brush for the vinyl, cassette deck cleaner (not that it had been used in a long, long time; cassettes really wer
