There were seven among them, new songs clustered together in a dense mass of sound and light. Jane’s sense of abandonment had cracked her album wide open, and the tracks she had been gently easing into existence were now bursting forth all at once. She didn’t have time to indulge in self-pity or self-doubt. There was peril in this cacophony; if she didn’t get this music out of her body, it would devour her. Her urgency gave her focus.
