Singing in Silence

A figure stood in front of a sea on an old derelict looking pier. It lifted its arms. A scattering of white holes appeared between his silhouette and the grey backdrop of the sky and the sea. The waves moved forth and backward, swishing, appearing as a dark grey mass with white excitement appearing and disappearing, here and there. The figure moved its upper part downwards and directed towards the moving mass. It reached out with arms, as if familiarising, toward the great sea’s motion. An onlooker, there fleetingly, might have become curious, perhaps perturbed before wandering off on his route home. The lights that could be seen on the sea’s farthest most distant line looked emotionless and without purpose, they flickered and were feeble. The figure sank and its silhouette became, due to a fog’s mustering around the sea-edge, more distorted, less defined. The white excitements of the dark grey sea became more sinister in the failing visibility, they made rapid movements, jagged shapes, shapes that would momentarily float on the dark grey before being engulfed beneath the pier. The figure stood quite motionless. It stood there while time passed over. White faces came and went, white moments came and went, time passed, the sea was no friend, the figure appeared like a dead leafless tree, one branch hanging towards the grey mass of its surroundings, the lights on the horizon went on lighting nothing, being nothing other than a feeble decoration to a grey place. Some waves later, the figure moved off, and resumed its journey on the route home.

And probably had Hior Chronik‘s new digital EP, Singing in Silence, stuck in its head. An EP, released on mü-nest with astonishingly enriching consequences:

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