imagine hearing “hall of the mountian king” for the first time in 1875. the sheer chaos imagine being some norwegian aristocrat and sitting down for a nice day at the symphony and getting your entire wig and life snatched right before your very eyes
I feel like there’s a whole genre of poems about womanhood that are just like “my hair was a snake and I was living in a house that was on fire” but like. they’re literally right