Bon Iver heard me cough from the other room. I heard the door slam, and moments later he returned: with armfuls of lemongrass, humanely terminated free-range chickens and fresh greens, and he whipped up a soup to cure me. As he spooned it into my mouth, he kissed my throat and whispered, ‘That was a close one, baby.’
Reblogged from mischief always wins the war