In places where the light is soft, smell is enhanced, and the air is riddled with furvor... Deep in the rippled layers of dreams and distant memories exists music which is universal, understood by planets and bugs, humans and spirits. Winter days in the northwest embellish a murky grey hue, and when the sun sets, the fog grows dense and the boat drifts further offshore, deeper into the dream. The rain never stops out here. The sun has long since dropped out of orbit. When night sets in, the glimmer of the stars behind the opaque sheet of ice glazed black clouds do their dance. The ice chilled fish tap under the boat, you never know when you slip into a dream here. Even in pitch silence, it can sound like a full orchestra is tuning up inside your heart in the middle of a winter night at sea. The neverending winter has arrived, and so has its soundtrack.
I adore hatred I despise life Music is my drug of choice