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To Have and To Hold is not a biography, a lecture, or a historical reconstruction. It is an imagined world — one you step into to feel your way around an idea rather than to learn it.

The album takes place loosely in early-20th-century Cambridge, at the moment when Western thought was beginning to strain under its own certainty. Science had proved astonishingly powerful at breaking reality into parts, explaining mechanisms, and producing results — yet at the same time it was encountering problems it could no longer fully contain. Probability was replacing certainty. Events mattered as much as objects. Meaning no longer sat still.

Out of this tension emerged process philosophy: the idea that reality is not made of finished things, but of ongoing happenings — that love, time, marriage, and even truth itself are not states you reach, but activities you keep participating in.

The album imagines this moment through a human lens. A mathematician trying to complete a system of logic. A thinker insisting that nothing important is ever truly finished. Proofs accumulating. Years passing. A marriage understood first as a statement, then slowly revealed as a practice. Love appearing not as romance in the foreground, but as something quietly unfolding elsewhere — happening whether it is attended to or not.

Rather than explaining these ideas directly, the songs allow you to inhabit them. You hear bells ring. You feel evenings close in. You sense the weight of unfinished work and the relief of letting something continue without control. The philosophy is not taught; it is lived.

This is a soft documentary in sound — an audio quantum leap into a world. Its purpose is not accuracy, quotation, or instruction, but immersion. By the time the album ends, you may not be able to define process philosophy in a sentence — but you may feel why it arose, what problem it was answering, and why it still matters.

To Have and To Hold is an exploration of commitment not as possession, but as attention.
Of marriage not as a conclusion, but as renewal.
Of understanding not as something you arrive at — but something that keeps happening.

If you listen closely, nothing here ever quite resolves.
But something continues.

The Bells Don’t Argue (Interlude)

Dear friends - children want to have fun, for their parents to be well and for them to be healthy. Vaccinations have had a huge impact on children's health - smallpox and polio are almost eradicated. Speaking of which, there have been reports that vaccination against herpes zoster reduces the incidence of Alzheimer's disease. These viruses live in nerve tissue and the brain is a large nerve tissue. And now... it has been discovered that it is possible to capture malaria mosquitoes using urine as an attractant. That's good for kids.

Christmas for Kids

The morning is white and crystal
there is no sounds at all, but when kids start to wake up
the calm is blown away with the wind
and the children they wish that all of the children in the world feel fine

There are places where there is no snow
but it’s ok anyway  the lovely Christmas is everywhere
since kindness is the feature of these days
and the children they wish that all of the children in the world feel fine

All soldiers have joined their families
they don’t have to freeze anymore and they will not end up in a grave
the peace has now come to us
and the children they wish that all of the children in the world feel fine

Christmas for Kids - 2025-12-09 16.03

“À quoi bon” interroge, sans colère ni grand discours, le sens de nos matins répétés. À travers des images familières — le métro, les visages fatigués, les jours qui s’empilent — la chanson questionne l’utilité de l’effort, la répartition injuste des récompenses et cette impression tenace que tout profite toujours aux mêmes.

Porté par une écriture épurée et une mélodie retenue, le morceau refuse le cynisme. Il laisse au contraire apparaître, en creux, ce qui résiste encore : un café chaud, un regard, un rire, une chanson à la radio. De ces détails presque insignifiants naît une réponse fragile mais essentielle : peut-être que le sens ne se trouve pas dans la réussite ou la durée, mais dans la simple expérience d’être vivant.

“À quoi bon” est une chanson existentielle et humaine, qui ne cherche pas à résoudre la question, mais à la poser honnêtement — et c’est déjà beaucoup.

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ahmad bader 7