Semiconscious singing transforms into matter, ethereal zones interact as loudspeaker walls, leaving something untold, trying to tell something.

And the world itself is imagined as a large pile of granular stones that became solid in the crucible of time, passing the path from the atoms that make up air to the crystalline lattice.

Therefore, we essentially live among the stony collapse of lives and sounds and constantly hear the boulders turning over somewhere in the mouth of consciousness, in the garden of stones.

This music relies on relative levers, trying to construct a sufficient foundation for the great mass of emptiness, for the relentless reinforcement of time.