Mescaline - Squalid in her nakedness and timid at first sight, the melody becomes blurred and widened with every second, like a purity of hot opium that darkens and cools until revealing beasts half domesticated and devils with blunt horns. There is an equidistant echo between the piano and the violins, voices that speak and respond to themselves, lights that feed the shadow and nights that choke for days. A dream of unclean peace and a solace of trembling in the hands.
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