" Waving becomes speed painting. Here. Now. No repititions. No return. Mistakes, internal freedom, improvise me! Birth and death of hundred lost, injured melodies found in my sonicgalaxy. Past. Present. Romantic Futurist , I had pity on them and they had pity on me for 30 seconds, 1 minute, 3 hours, 1 day and then i let them die. I knew that they were not going to return and shovelled to them a grave in my ear. From time to time I visit this crypt. Memento, dairy of live, red, white, black chronicles… "