Whatever Happens, Happens

Between Wide Lines

Marmelade

Mononoke

Another Road

This Is The City

Wave on wave on wave crashing down; then, in the deepest of blue: Eight arms, music. Octopus. From the sea’s dark crevice the timbres arise, they float towards the ruptured mirror. Airs surface between wide lines. Tenors reach their vanishing point. At last, there appears on the horizon a giant of tremendous height, soaring beyond even the Crown of the World. Not a sound can be heard. There is only silence. Eventually, the giant speaks…

Contact: turtur@posteo.de

TurTur