“To give yourself over to another body; that’s all you really want. To be out of your own and consumed by another. To swim inside the skin of your lover. Not have to breathe, not have to think. But you can’t live on love, and salt water’s no drink. We’re dying of thirst, so we feast on each other. The sea is still our violent mother. The blood ‘round here pours down like water, each wave, a lamb led to slaughter. And like children that she just can’t teach, we break, and break, and break, and break ourselves upon the beach.”
- Florence Welch [x]
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