05. Tiny electronic drum taps are backed up with a cymbal sounding so warm that i imagine it heated and sizzling to create the tiny static that follows. Some inverse version of the loop from Fiona’s “Sleep To Dream” plays itself out here, daring you to dream if you want any rest at all. And, just as you are lulled into a false sense of security in rhythm and in the simplicity of this song you are surrounded by this inescapable melody carrying itself through the sizzling and sinister noises of the backdrop it is set against.

The sonic landscape is polar and unforgiving, and she has no intentions of falling in love again; in the past the lyrics to this sounded like the kind of lie a man tells because he can. Suddenly, you can feel the utter barren waste of an empty heart and you know all at once that he is not lying when he says “I’m Not In Love” and that she does not care. The song is just the empty space between them, or maybe the picture that is hiding “the nasty stain still hiding there” : the blood red of a tiny patch of heart that is left. The lyrics repeat endlessly and hearts skip beats just like records… Tori lets out all of her breath at the end and we are left in the chilling landscape again, with only the slow warm drench of the cymbal to root us back to anything physical. And then the record stops.