It’s like Jules took everything out of me—the bricks and building blocks of my heart—and set it to music. All these weeks she’s been watching, writing my life with lyrics. Orion has to hold me steady when the bridge starts. The guitar players grin, standing from their stools. Leah the drummer winks, then the chords, the beat, the rhythmic patterns change: Goldline is referencing salsa. Jules toggles between English and Spanish in the most unique bridge I have ever heard. It’s not out of place, but a perfect mash-up like a Cuban pastry filled with English fruit.
