Angels and Anaemia
Jenny Hval
Self-doubt, it's what I do. This music, this sound, this voice and these words. All that carry "me", it's not writing nor music, fuck, it's certainly not "art." When the boundaries seem unclear we don't have a language
That day you fainted, your eyes looked right through me, from nowhere in particular, dislocated, light, monotonous
And when I touched you I turned you into a girl, only for a moment, soon you'll come back to me, but when I touched you I could turn you into a girl, and I could love you wildly, girly, wildly, girly, boundlessly, wildly