Industry 6.35 - Filmstadt Underground (atze187/Frid Mars/RÖBOT)

Not Sure

On The Run

I dont believe

The discreet ceremony of life changes and growth, a quiet conversation 

She's leaning forward absently
searching like she's drifting 
so she can speak to me
why spread my blossom neath a cloudy sky
(petals wet and dripping)
in places where my hips grow wide
where the earth is cleaved and ripped aside
the solid rush as such...
she whispers of her first bed hush
the secret of her bloom 
the unveiling of new moons
with her breath against my ear
she quivers in her fear
searching like she's drifting as she speaks to me
when the moon subsides
I will shake these petals dry
while my curves enjoy new spaces
in the places they grow wide
a faded blush as such 
echoes of her first bed hush
yea
I can feel her touch
lips parted near
warm and soft across the years
the perfume of her speech drifting absently
so she could speak to me
the unveiling of new moons
the secret hush of blooms

#girlhood

Secret Hush

Sarajevo, recorded on the street at the gate, circa 21.00.
To learn more about the musical history of these kind of Adhans -see
https://folkways-media.si.edu/docs/folkways/magazine/2014_fall_winter/Muslim-Call-to-Prayer.pdf

Adhan 20 - 4-2023 - Gazi Husrev Begova Džamija

Mark 15: 24-37

Jesus hangs on the cross - is maliciously mocked by many of the people gathered there - his last words and death - postlude

Saint Mark Passion part 4b, conclusion of work -

Voltaic 2. Rascalaty

Sing A Song That Sings Forever

Do Da Stomp

I was trained in tradition, yet I stepped beyond its walls. Sound is my language, not to decorate but to liberate. Composer, performer, and listener — one fire, three sparks, inseparable.

I write and compose to uncover what is hidden: the truth buried beneath power, the dignity of the ordinary, the current of awareness that flows through all.

I belong to no authority, only to sound, to truth, to the silence from which all begins. My work is not mastery, but remembrance — a manifesto in every note, every word, every breath.

I am a composer of the 21st century: a studio artist. The studio is my forge, my battlefield, my sanctuary. Machines hum like choirs, circuits burn like torches, cables twist like roots in the earth. Tradition breaks open in this fire — the score turns to light, the instrument becomes the world itself.

To be a studio artist is to seize sound at its rawest, to sculpt electricity and breath as one, to summon the invisible power that belongs to all. Here music is not bound by walls, not enslaved by profit, not tamed by form. It is free, untouchable, unending — a living flame for the century that is ours.

Voltaic 2. Rascalaty

Anthony Cutrera Morales