Blog: Seamstress for the Band

A long time ago, a boy convinced me that he and I were angels; we made a religion out of patchouli and poems, the vibration of weeping stone angels in churchyards our only gods. We read each others' minds and danced, clad in the black skies of the suburbs, beneath thunderstorms that never got us wet. But he was no angel, and neither was I. There are at least a dozen girls still walking this earth believing they were once divinity; a smattering of boys who still believe that I am pure magic, when all I ever gave them were [...]

• The xx - Angels