There’s something about music that stays long after the moment has passed. A lyric looping quietly in the back of your mind. A piano chord that stirs a memory you hadn’t meant to revisit. In Comings and Goings – The Art of Being Seen, one such song plays softly in the background—Billy Joel’s “This Night.” But its echo carries further than the mixtape it spins on.
This story isn’t about first love. It’s about the first time you don’t have to explain yourself. The first time being seen isn’t terrifying—it’s permission to stay.
Here’s a small excerpt from Jim’s point of view:
I reached for the first button like it held some secret rite—my hands strangers to me, my breath a held confession. She came closer, not as thunder, but as balm—sandalwood and hush, the kind of calm that steadies trembling skin… She didn’t ask me to be more. She just stayed. Because I had.
That moment—quiet, tender, without performance—is set to a song that becomes more than background. The track plays on, but for Jim, everything shifts. “This night” becomes a refrain, a timestamp. A line that threads music, memory, and transformation together.
And sometimes, in the stillness afterward, another melody returns. One you didn’t expect—but one that reminds you who you were before the noise, and who you might be after.
Two versions of the same phrase. Two different women. Both remembered.
A Certain Point of View, Too 
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