18 days ago · Life · 0 comments

Here she could lie for half a day undistracted, holding pleasant and incomplete conceptions in her mind – almost in her hands. They were scarcely clear enough to be called ideas. They had something to do with fragrance and colour and sound, but almost nothing to do with words. She was singing very little now, but a song would go through her head all morning, as a spring keeps welling up, and it was like a pleasant sensation indefinitely prolonged. It was much more like a sensation than like an idea, or an act of remembering. — Thea Kronborg, from The Song of the Lark I was fascinated by this passage when reading a review of a book about Willa Cather, and how the heroine was on a pilgrimage to be alone and to find her voice. Since 2012 I've largely worked alone, not of course withstanding the collaborations I've done with some amazing people, but day-to-day I work out of the backroom of our home. There is power in silence, of being the only person in the room, without distractions,…

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