“I don’t understand what you see in her.”
“It’s not what I see it’s what I hear. The wit and wisdom born of a medicated tongue. The dark and delicate tones that pierce my goosebumps like the jagged razor of bow on string. The laughter, sometimes natural, sometimes unnatural that dances across my heart. The music of her soul.”
“You remember when you were a kid and your mum would tell you some ugly girl had a great personality? That’s what you’re doing now. Just with bigger and fancier words.”
“I love her voice.”
About 18 months ago I wrote in a post that I might be a tiny bit in love with Agnes Obel. This bit of fun in drabble form was inspired by her (amazing) voice and (equally amazing) music as I had her new album playing in the background while I was scribbling some notes. She is officially not a minger. I might still be a tiny bit in love with her.