Some love doesn't arrive. It falls on you.

SOAKED begins with a single drop at the base of the throat — small enough to deny, close enough to know exactly who it is. Then a second at the collarbone. Then a third behind the ear. Nobody says anything. Nobody has to.

There's shelter three steps back. Two other people already ran for it. She watched them go.

This record isn't about being taken. It's about staying — about the moment you realise you could have turned around, you have turned around your whole life, and tonight you simply don't. Every song is one more layer soaked through, until the title track arrives and there is no dry part of her left, and she is not looking for one.

And when it's over, years later, the rain still runs down the same glass and gathers in the same place and falls — and she still looks up.