I love Fiona and I love this video.
(and I love that she's singing with her sister! (Maude Maggart!) )
Shit, I thought, as I stared up at the cloudless blue sky and then blocked out the bright sun with my hand. I couldn't face anything, especially not a balmy April day, not right now. Shit shit shit shit shit. Until that moment I'd never considered how useful the word "shit" was; if I could just keep repeating "shit" for the rest of my life, as a single run-on sentence, I'd be fine. I'd be safe. I'd just lie on the ground and get covered by the seasons, by the rotting leaves and the frozen drifts and the year-round grit, until I became a small hill, a part of the landscape which only the occasional drunken vagrant would overhear mumbling "Shit shit shit shit shit...."
Law of Sympathy, i.e. the assumption that things act on one another at a distance through a secret link, due either to the fact that there is some similarity between them or to the fact that they have at one time been in contact, or that one has formed part of the other.