I have a deep and abiding love for Fiona Apple.
Fiona’s been with me since before I knew who I was and has most definitely had a heavy hand in who I am. Learning to play her songs on piano as a teen. Screaming her lyrics while driving North on the I-5 in my twenties. And, most recently, listening silently to entire albums while lying on the floor of the home I somehow purchased to root myself in San Francisco–back on bare hardwood, her notes ricocheting off lathe-and-plaster walls.
I, this person that I am, love you, Fiona Apple.