Half Waif — Lavender




Cascine | genius.com


Subtle and shattering, Half Waif wears her grief devastatingly well
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And in the morning there’ll be tea /
And coffee /
And milk /
Just the way you like


Harmonies grow denser and more rich with each additional offer, shading the space between the words with subtle notes of kindness, and the barest hint of desparation.

Half Waif generously selects such moments of shattering domesticity. A eulogy is a self-portrait, after all, and Lavender devastates oh so quietly on both fronts.

It’s not the details themselves that make such a sharp impression — kitchens go quiet each morning, and flowerbeds go fallow every day — it is the chilling clarity with which Half Waif lays everything out, arranging her grandmother’s life, and her own, as methodically as a budget in a spreadsheet.

Velveteen indigos drone and ripple forth in uncanny synchronicity, barely disturbing the grey dawnlight cast by the dusty old piano, a voice a thread of smoke rising alone into the air.

There is something to be learned from the hue of the sky /
When it loses all its light