Not one day will ever be the same again, yet each one of them will come back


Here, in the view of my new studio, a natural platform in front of a demolished house once in construction, is the island of Stromboli, a volcano.

Relocated to the more southern part of Calabria in Italy, I started working on new recordings every day at the hour of sunset, my sunset recordings.

I listen to the sea and faint incoming voices from radio-frequencies gone astray and watch the last southern coastline almost touch Sicily; the Lipari Islands get absorbed by ever darker shades of blue.

Outside my headphones the sea calms down. My ears get cold. Straight ahead of me a small line of flickering lights appears: Vulcan.


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