They call it healing, as if it were an herb you could steep or a balm you could smear upon a rash.
They call it home, though the roof beams smell faintly of stage-makeup and someone’s old laundry.
They hand you tea—very hot, very herbal—and inquire after your “inner child” in the same tone one might use to ask about a stubborn wart.

Into this Circle trotted the Piglet, eyes round as silver pennies, coat freshly scrubbed till he squeaked. He had come, poor soul, hoping to be improved, or at least thoroughly rinsed. But what he found was no mere cottage-meeting. It was a play.

Eyes lingered like lovesick elves at Midsummer.
Hugs lasted a beat too long—warm, yes, but with the faint, sticky suspicion of toffee on the fingers.
And after each confession there was applause, polite and perilous, as though shame itself were a traveling minstrel act brought in from Bree.

And Boars—Valar save us, there were always Boars. Smiling with tusks that caught the firelight like polished mithril, nodding like dwarves who already know the ending of the saga and yet have shown up for the ale. Their sympathy was practiced, their tusks rehearsed.

The Piglet clapped when told, smiled like a hero in a tapestry, and wondered if he should also bow.
But in his belly something wriggled—an unease, or perhaps the ghost of salt.

For he had not chosen this Circle; his parents had. They had caught him behind the barn, tongue upon the forbidden saltlick, lost in its crystalline ecstasy. They whispered words like compulsion, addiction, sin, and packed him off—scrubbed, circled, and applauded into righteousness.

Yet no matter how tightly he folded his little hooves, the taste remained: salt and forgetting, the sweet, perilous elsewhere.

Confess. Clap. Repeat.

Not brainwashed.
Just very deeply supported.


And over it all, a soundtrack like some wandering company of bards and goblin-harpers: Demuir, OFF / GRID, SOBSTORY plucking haunted strings; Girls of the Internet, Rex the Dog, Ejeca luring dancers deeper into fog; Deepertone’s vintage remix pulsing like an over-shared memory; and Anika Kunst whispering secrets back into the microphone, like Galadriel with a disco ball.

Disappointed Forgiveness (Interlude) . . . Demuir 🖤

Never Too Old (Friction Remix) . . . Monrroe & Emily Makis 💃

Omen . . . Monkey Safari 🌘

Machine Collective . . . Tom Trago, Willem Mulder 🤖

You Bet I Did Not (Thank You) Vintage RMX . . . Deepertone feat. Robert Owens 💌

Faith . . . Ejeca 🌟

Toil & Trouble . . . Girls of the Internet 🔮

Addictions . . . Anika Kunst 💊

Don’t Try To Fight It . . . Elliot Adamson, Another Chemical Love Story ⚡

Never Ready For This Shit . . . OFF / GRID 💣

Change This Pain For Ecstasy . . . Rex The Dog 💥

Deep in my Feelings . . . SOBSTORY 🌊

Challenges . . . D_Roots 🌿

Youth . . . Nocow 🌫️j

🌱 S̸̰̬̿̽P̷͈͆̔R̸̳͝A̶̢̜̒̚N̵̻̮͐̈́G̸͉̏̿ Episode 3 - 🐷🛐 T🌀H🧿E 🔒C🔁I⛓️R🧬C🧿L🪙E

PURE NRG, Hyper Motion, and Soothing Vibrationz.  Live The Fantasee.

New tracks tagged #ForgivenessBeats