Such a beautiful human, my god.
do want
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dream.
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someday
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I am sketching Bon Iver as he works in his music room. ‘I’m having trouble with the rhythm,’ he says. He taps a frame drum, tinkers with the temple blocks, and spends quite a bit of time with the castanets we brought back from Valencia, nestled in my beach towel. In my drawing, his brows are pulled together in concentration.
Finally he rises from his stool and comes to me. He places his hand over my heart and we are silent for awhile, breathing and waiting. ‘Yes,’ he finally whispers. ‘Yes.’
hahahahahahahahahahahahaahahhaha. death by intense laughter.






