Sissy's part after her "im not your child, im what became of your child" is heartbreaking stuff.
theres a hushed silence in a musicless house at night where words feel more sentimental and real. no static, just meaning.
all the things you ever said and wanted to say to the dead: nows your chance while they live. the agony of getting to formulate those graveside pleads to the person still alive is emotional whiplash at best.
snapped me in two man. i could greet thinking about some of the words said in this.