Re
Nils Frahm
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Love, for me, was always a shapeless awe that lived somewhere else, coming down to search through my heart while I was absent. It still does this. Love places inside me traces of its visits, along with its secret devices to track the intensity of my sadness so it can hurt me most when I least need to be hurt. And each time, before it unshapes itself again, it is sure to upset the order of feelings whose positions I had dared to think of as settled, firm, and safe…
Reblogged from Daniel Stephensen
