Yesterday, in the still silence of dusk, Bon Iver began to tell me of his boyhood. His mother’s warmth and his father’s distance. The time his brother Leland was lost in the woods for three days. The bracing cold of the water from the spring behind his home. The smell of his grandfather’s tobacco and the sound of his grandmother’s voice, slow and sweet as molasses. All the scrapes and struggles that had shaped him. He held me close, and I could feel the heart of that little boy beating furiously inside his chest.
This morning, after our passionate and tender lovemaking, Bon Iver brought me fresh-brewed coffee in a mug he’d carved out of the branch of a tree that fell in the wind. I sipped it while he hummed and assembled his ice-fishing gear.
(via pitchfork)
sleeeeeeeeeeep
(Source: poke-problems)
slight formatting issues, i’m sorry to say. i had to divide it up into two images, so i made it into a photoset. click them for better quality. :]
Feels kinda out of season, but hey…
