Bon Iver and I were lying in bed far past dawn on a lazy Sunday. He was silently stroking his beard, and I was watching the crystals we hung in the window cast their dancing light on the ceiling.
What do you think the meaning of life is? I asked him.
Without hesitation he responded, To squeeze every last drop of love out of the washrag of our hearts into the bucket of mankind.
And then he tickled me with bearded kisses until I begged him to stop.