Just kisses, no love

Frozen desire. Absence. Distance. At the heart of the frozen crystal of robotic beats, icy guitar notes and threatening bass lines (remotely resembling Massive Attack) of the XX, there is a little spark dying to burst into a passionate fire. However, the spark remains in a lock-in situation of desiring… to desire.

Some call it the puberty perspective on the alien forms of love that grown-ups seem to live in the eyes of… puberty. I just love this new black, this new minimalist and clean wave of cold observations. These cold statements of wanting to be hot. And it’s been a while since I was officially a puber. Auto-suggestion.


Compare it to the wild and expressive liveliness of Jònsi, that I also recently fell in love with.

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