this almost-summer sunday afternoon i am filling my airspace with one of my favorite voices.
adele.
rich and thick. soulful. so full.
her voice is
like a recollection penned in the blackest of inks.
like her heavy lashes and eyeliner.
like smooth calligraphy, delicate art.
above a hush, below a cry.
i love listening to the subtle differences in language, the way vowels are formed, the way consonants are not sounded. i love the way voices travel up and down registers. the breaking point between chest and head. and the way a slight whine in a phrase can pull me into that fullness.
thank you adele for writing music. and for singing it so beautifully. thank you for never performing like britney spears did. your voice can stand on its own. its fullness pouring into empty space: sinking into carpet and dripping down walls.
oh, the truth in this.
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