Her voice sounds warm like a fire without the crackle, like wood without knots and grains that flow out from the heartwood in gentle waves like rolling hills. She speaks while the radio crackles and the warbled voices stumble about in the blue background of warm noise. She speaks in a language I can’t understand Or don’t understand, or just don’t feel like understanding. All the better to simply listen to the music of her voice, so soft and spilling, while the sun melts away into the ocean spilling its hidden colours - J.H Lee