Chiaroscuro from Offerings by TYPHOON

Headlights through the kitchen window. Are you finally home? Head down on the table watching an abstract puppet show. With the light hope rises—in the darkness, well, there it goes. As I lose myself in chiaroscuro. Car keys clatter on the tile. You lunge for the phone. Your voice like a frightened child’s: he’s had some kind of stroke. Be calm my dear, I’m just moving a little slow. As it all approaches absolute zero. Now there's no one behind the curtain. How you hate hospitals. I know it's an awful burden, but that's the way it goes. I’d let you off the hook but by now you and I should know. We’re involved in something irreversible. They say nothing survives. But in the case we do. I’m afraid of my posthumous state—I don't know if karmic residue is something you'd even recognize—so here's what I'm going to do: take some time to erase myself, then whatever's left I'll leave with you. I’ll bury it in you.

• Alternative
• indie
• orchestral
• singer-songwriter
• symphonic
• Portland