other nothing // ww — slowed version by weareflorence.

follow playlist for more
https://comfyambient.sbmt.to/

playlist

ww by other nothing — but it's a + slowed version.

cassette tapes available:
https://blearmoon.bandcamp.com/merch

Revisiting one's artistic practices is a dialogue with past versions of oneself. This reassessment holds enormous potential for new aesthetic forms and meanings, directed towards the future.

This album is a compilation of alternative versions of previously released works and new ones that have not been published before.

produced and mastered by Vlas Presnetsov (Blear Moon)
tape processing by Kirill Yazinin
released December 22, 2023 via Three Head Tapes records

Revisions

bandcamp

Blear Moon - Maples

all platforms:
https://bfan.link/she-broke-my-heart

me:
https://www.instagram.com/mentallyiamhereforyou

she broke my heart

Stream

can we call it love

https://lnk.dmsmusic.co/forlornles_misery

misery

follow @findnothing

stream:
https://lnk.dmsmusic.co/lesfindnothing_tiredofthis

tired of this

I watch myself moving through the days, going through motions that feel rehearsed, like lines from a play I no longer understand. My voice sounds hollow, foreign, as though it belongs to someone else entirely. And the moments—they stretch and collapse all at once, blurring into a shapeless haze. Time doesn’t flow anymore; it pools, stagnant and still, while I float somewhere above it all, unable to reach down.

There’s a strange kind of quiet in this state, a numbness that feels both a blessing and a curse. It also steals the color, the weight, the life from everything around me.  Now, I’m not sure where I am—only that it is somewhere between, nowhere at all.

I wish I could tell you how it started, when exactly I began to slip. But the truth is, I didn’t notice until I was already gone. And now, as I drift further, I wonder if there is a way back. Sometimes I call out, hoping someone will hear me through this vast and silent distance. But my voice is lost in the void, and I am left with nothing but echoes of myself.

Perhaps this is what it means to disappear—not all at once, but piece by piece, until you are little more than a memory fading into the wind.

this is what it menas to disappear

There is a sound I can almost hear, just beyond the edges of my mind—a slow, patient ticking, an unheard countdown to something I cannot name. It hovers in the quiet spaces, in the pause between breaths, in the way the air shifts before a storm.

I do not know what it is counting down to. I only know that it is always there.

Some days, I think it is time itself unraveling, thinning at the edges, escaping my grasp no matter how tightly I try to hold it. Other days, I think it is me. That I am fading, piece by piece, unnoticed even by myself.

I reach for certainty, for something solid, but the future is a blurred thing, shifting like a dream half-remembered upon waking. And beneath it all, a quiet fear takes root—irrational, insistent—that one day I will simply vanish. Not in an instant, not in a moment of catastrophe, but in the slow erosion of being.

I wonder if others hear it too, this quiet pulse of something ending, or if it is mine alone to bear. Perhaps it has always been there, this unseen metronome ticking in the background of existence, and only now have I learned to listen. But listen to what? A warning? A promise?

I do not know. I only know that the counting continues, steady, relentless. And I am left standing at the threshold of something I cannot see, waiting for an ending I do not understand.

the pause between breaths

There is a tide within me,
pulling toward a shore I have never seen,
a place unnamed, yet familiar,
woven from the mist of forgotten dreams.

I step into the water,
watch as it swallows my reflection—
a face I no longer recognize,
a drift between the currents of what was and what could be.

I have spent lifetimes chasing shadows,
tracing the outline of something just beyond reach,
a whisper lost in the crash of waves,
a question without a language to hold it.

What if I am only the echo of a life never lived?
A ripple fading before it meets the sand?
Perhaps I was never meant to arrive,
only to drift, to dissolve,
to become part of the endless tide.

Not to grasp, but to feel,
not to own, but to remember
that once, for a moment,
I was more than water.

lighthouse

I DONT KNOW HOW TO FEEL (prod. CEDES)

Got real emotional with this one but I had to make this. Wanted to sum up Davids tragic life with this tribute, I don't expect this to do well but I hope y'all like it. A collab and hardstyle edits coming up soon so y'all be ready!!!

𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐳 // Cyberpunk Edgerunners

instagram.com/bienbienbienbienbien
https://open.spotify.com/artist/1Q1YaJhj7mePPO9K2xtsTi?si=s92hSYQpREO7phI6cW1nmQ

the pause between breaths

FTBN

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