“The third form of love is music. Whether it’s the sound of a boys’ choir in Oxford, like a shaft of silver light shooting into the stratosphere, or the gritty sub bass of an underground club in some hidden corner of Berlin, rippling the mud and oil in the gutter, there are vibrations that subtly alter the body…and that bodily transformation is love.
The inverse of this subtle form of pleasure, and the transformation it brings, is judgement, and austerity.”
By now we were nested in the dried grasses of the hollow. The wooden door still stood open, revealing the underground corridor marked by the lights glowing from their cage-like sconces. We sat facing each other. Sailor payed attention to me as the words simply flowed forth, as if from someplace outside of my body.