A suite of minimalist vocals rooted in the Icelandic-Italian singer-songwriter’s loss of innocence. Most are epistolary—letters of one sort or another, just-barely-there lullabies. She turns the phone off, tries to believe nothing can bring her down, but most things, like the leaves at her feet, are victims of gravity. She drinks too much, smokes too fast and finds cryptic assignations painted in the snow. She’s suspended between things left unsaid and saying too much. Her voice is wispy and luminously quiet, breathy and meandering, as she wonders whether things that have gone are worth fixing. This elegiac stance—enhanced with only acoustic guitar, occasional piano and minimal percussion—conjures an eerie, beautiful simplicity that seeps in with repeated listenings, letting you know how it is, then evaporating it with doubt.