evermore

It’s late, the radiance of the fairy light catches on the tinsel of the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, headphones on, the cat sleeping soundly on the edge of the sofa, and I cried my way through most of this record; I cried for all the things I never said, and all the things I would never let myself say again. I don’t know if any of us predicated a second act to folklore, and...