- Welcome to Daytrotter
- My Young Man
- Easter Sunday
- The Swimmer
- No Heat
Esme Patterson makes us want to feel the love that she is feeling.
It sounds as if it’s new. It sounds as if it’s not arrived yet, but it’s expected.
It sounds like it’s iffy. It sounds charged and exciting, as if there’s nothing else like it anywhere.
It sounds as if it feels lived in.
It sounds hard to describe, but a lot like sky and a lot like weightlessness and wilderness.
It feels deserved and it feels earned.
It feels remarkable, only in that it’s hers – that she can claim it as her own.
It feels like it needs to be fought for and yet it may still be something that one can just fall into, to lie around with a bottle or two of wine and just be there, sipping and staring at the lovely beast.
It’s the light of the moon and the gravity that the moon would know nothing about. It’s about finding oneself at a loss, contemplating how fleeting this all could be.
It sounds like a flash, like some grand illusion.
It feels like puppies and kittens.
It feels vulnerable, but tested, as if there was no way that this wasn’t the real thing, sought after for so long.
This is what it is to skinny dip.
This is what it’s like to do so with someone you’re sort of afraid of, still shy to be around, but feel like you won’t be for long.
She sings, “Won’t you look into my heart and see that all of my blood is still red,” and she would urge you to feel how trembly her hands and how steady her eyes are. It all feels like something we could go for, right about now, shut in from the coldness outside.