A single night, vivid as a lifetime.
"Orange" is a pulse of fleeting romance, born from one brief encounter and everything it left behind: the shimmer of a smile, the mystery in a glance, the perfect stranger written into memory like a myth.
Its electronic textures build slowly, evolving like the moment itself, familiar at first, then suddenly luminous, almost surreal. A park at night becomes a dream in motion, coloured in synth and light. Some loves are too quick to catch. This one lingers, dancing just out of reach.

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Orange

Joy without reason, movement without direction.
Caught between tension and release, "Jaune citron" doesn’t search for clarity, it dances in the unknown. A looping motif anchors the song like a thought that won’t leave, while each section spins off unpredictably: shifting shapes, an improvised burst, then back again.
There’s something almost lighthearted in its indifference, like standing in a crowded room, half-listening, half-lost in your own rhythm. Not certain where to go next, and, for a moment, not needing to know.

Jaune citron

Not with a cry, but with surrender.
"Modløshed" closes the album in quiet resignation, a single, long progression unfolding like a final breath. There’s no resistance left, only the slow descent into a feeling that seems like the end. Not peace. Not clarity. Just stillness.
It’s the sound of believing the story is over, too tired to hope, too full to fight. The last page, turned without knowing another chapter waits.

Sixteenth Shade (Modløshed)

There’s no fanfare, no finality, just the quiet motion of someone still walking forward, unsure of the path but committed to moving anyway. "Epilogue" does not bring closure, nor does it offer revelation; it simply acknowledges that time moves, and so must one. The feelings still linger: love, doubt, sorrow, but now, they hum beneath the surface, softer, less urgent, like distant echoes.

A looping bass and simple percussion carry the track, while an electric guitar weaves its way through the space with a free improvisation, two phrases that resemble verses, and two more that gently crest into something like a chorus. It’s a song that lives between statements, half-muttered thoughts on a long walk at dusk.

A winding path through a fading landscape, not quite night, not quite memory. The sky is overcast in soft colours, and everything feels paused, like the moment before a page turns.

Orange

Claire's Prelude

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