She's Chosen To Believe/ In The Hymns Her Mother Sings

In case you were going to, you close ones, you dear things to me, or even just vague whispering things that come somewhere in contact with this, please don't forget about Iron & Wine. Listen to "Fever Dream", or "Teeth In The Grass", or any song really, let it just play in the background while you bathe, or when you're drinking something warm, or just sitting staring out some fogged over window. You don't even have to listen, I suppose, if you don't want to, if your ears are broken for just today. Just go to Passing Afternoon and read the lyrics, see the way they are on the page, and that should be enough, even if the font is simple serif and the spaces are simpler still. I think his words make me remember that I do have a soul, as much as I forget that space is occupied, and how much work such things take, and how precious pearly they are. I could swear, if it made you hear me more.

Papa died smiling
Wide as the ring of a bell
Gone all star white
Small as a wish in a well