spends his nights in the sea to seek some creature from the pack. A gold fish, the white whale, a leviathan sleeping.
holding onto the network and I dive where sound propagates more intense. I love the research and travel, exotic animals, only those you see in the picture but you've never heard of. Night Jazz, Funk moons, horns and strings, instruments that sparkle in the night, vibrate at low frequencies. I feel it as a challenge but I do not know with whom. Certainly it is an inspiration that he expects the hook.
look for new sounds, known as mushrooms, but they hide. Move your fingers in the darkness of tiny rooms.
Because they are like jellyfish in the water easily and the black of night clubs is not going to wet. So I hunt, I hunt. In all corners. Until something I do not kiss the heart. And how sweet that quiet moment where the music is discovered, it gets as hot as in liqueur and cream malt. The low-bassoon mutter under other instruments, the guitar speaks, screams and the battery mimics the foam that comes to caress the sand without changing it. And then maybe get a plan, but only if it is a poem of pearls falling from the hands into an island of silence.
