Bowie was Scott’s. That’s the first thing.
“And your prayers, they break the sky in two,” is the second.
Heathen is the third thing. It’s not on my iPod in its entirety, and it’s all I want to listen to.
Bowie was myth made manifest. That’s the last thing. I grew this story of him in my head from songs and half-read interviews and photographs; now there’s an ending, solid fact and impossible to ignore, and I hadn’t considered that there would be one, so.