She sinks her feet into the dewy leaves with no reservation. Her feet are cold and free. She’s not the kind of girl that sings in mousey whispers. Her volume is expanding clearly through the autumn sky molecules like they

Possessing a restless heart, something that requires not only a song, but a chorus sung with the full force of her lungs- to cut through shuffling leaves and airplanes flying ahead. At the very end of ‘Red Bike” she sings,

The leaves are falling, crunching and burning out their brightest shades of red and orange before they recede into the earth like mulchy confetti. They’re making their presence known in Bellwoods like a final spark a firecracker makes before it