AND WE WON’T GIVE IT A NAME

Clawing at the inaccessible certainties of the future from well below them, we head into each moment with a certain anxiety that our narrow temporal view cannot allow us to eschew. And so in each moment the fearful person emerges, and she can do nothing, for her questions are not answered. Every now and then, though, I think there is the recognition that it doesn’t matter what happens next, and with that recognition comes a brief peace. I neither can nor will give that experience a name, but here I attempt to musically describe what that evanescent, indifferent calm feels like, and how quickly it passes back behind a curtain of uncertainty.

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Être à l’ouest

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Desert Nocturnes