Just a few old original songs mostly without music and jut my vocal on a laptop mic. Now bed ridden and without my voice.

I have listened to you for 40 years, which is my age. I have kept quiet, I have bided my time. Why should you listen to me? What might I contribute?
We live in an age where attention is scarce, and emotion florid. The revolution is not only broadcasted, it is tracked minute for minute. And in the meanwhile,
a creeping numbness has taken over us. I have no musical training, I navigate by ear - in some ways, listening - playing notes and sequences, syncopating,
is a lot like automatic writing for me. I have also done that, just as I have created images by kinestetic compulsion, not only freehand, but autonomous of a
conscious eye. While there are some few genres I have spent little time with, I have a particular but very eclectic taste, because what happens with music is a translation of time
into a space which is bounded by other rules than by the hands of the clock, the ticking of the seconds on a digital chronometer. While music is universal for our species, it
is also in many ways one of the most subjective thing we have, our preferences determined by experiences which sometimes evade plain language.
The untranslatable and numinous are the second half of the world I inhabit, while the other half disappoints me, this other one never cease to amaze me.
Needless to say, I´m presently on a journey.

Selfsurgery is following