We are escorted into a dimming day with these White Violet songs.
The day is old and the night is unformed.
Everything is cast in the way that we see the monochrome fight its way through tree limbs and other obstructions to darken the light as much as possible.
These are twilight hours that pass like cigarette smoke, slightly and timidly.
With the passing of it all, the bits that we've learned, we've felt them as they've sunk in and we exhale what weighs too heavy inside.
These songs are not to represent the beading of sweat, but the cooling of it, the settling in of the rise and fall of the great loves and failings in our great chests.