> you made me forget about
> past and pain
> time you washed out
> like a soft
> sudden
> summer rain
The first time I heard Sibylle Baier sing those words it was like a startling
revelation, like I was just mucking about on Tumblr with my crappy old laptop
late at night and suddenly it it felt like this wise and powerful person was in
the room with me, telling me her story.
But that's art, I guess. Communication that short-circuits convention to reach
across borders, across decades or centuries, and just *zap* you directly in a
part of your cognition that doesn't operate logically.
Making art — for me, anyway — means surrendering the capacity to make sense of
things. And letting those things make sense of *you*, maybe.
