Or do we soon forget the things we cannot see?

In my head, she is the sound of my storm–that violent time period when we clumsily learn random elements of adulthood and have no fucking clue what to do with them, so everything is sound and fury, and oh, it means everything. At the time.

Little Earthquakes is 20 years old this year, and somehow it doesn’t make me feel old to know it. It’s such a wonderful album, and it happened at such a perfect time for me to hear it.


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