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Born under the sun. Experienced through the sand. Our it was a desert where nothing ever happened. Brought through the barricade. Disappeared in time. A time for living. A time for running. A time for playing. Forgetting the sound of water flowing through the stones, endless melody of violins, trees drown into wheat fields, glances not lived, unspoken words: we amuse ourselves with tapes and digital lullabies, we delight ourselves with words, chords and dusty gear. We are rhythm, melody and soft noise to feed our happy ghosts with… For Killing Them. Shine, shine, shine. Thank … read more
Born under the sun. Experienced through the sand. Our it was a desert where nothing ever happened. Brought through the barricade. Disappeared in time. A time for living. A time for running.… read more
Born under the sun. Experienced through the sand. Our it was a desert where nothing ever happened. Brought through the barricade. Disappeared in time. A time for living. A time for running. A time for playing. Forgetting the sound of w… read more
