“Back Home” is my personal Winterreise — a musical return to the place where I grew up, went to school, and first fell in love. It’s a journey through memory, along the quiet path of the old railroad tracks, hand in hand with the girl who once held my heart.

There are joyful recollections, and sorrowful ones too — of loved ones who are no longer here, their voices now soft echoes in the rooms that still carry their presence. In the dining room, the warm scent of coffee and cake lingers, as if time paused just long enough to remember.

These are fading fragments of days long gone — tender, ephemeral, and steeped in longing.

Yes, Back Home is a musical reflection on times past, suffused with a gentle melancholy.

Back Home

The Finest Honor
“The Finest Honor” tells of the moment when a human being begins to comprehend their own existence – a quiet, yet overwhelming step toward wisdom. This cycle is a journey through sound and time, carried by piano, cello, clarinet, violin, and orchestra. It spans the arc from delicate beginnings, through transformation and insight, to a return to the origin – transformed, matured, fulfilled.
The cycle opens with “Sometimes Dreams Come True” – a gentle hope awakening in the heart. With “Realization”, vision takes shape before the “Circle of Life” reveals its vast movement. In “Traces in the Snow passed in Time”, the music speaks of memory and transience, while “Reflection” lets the inner light emerge. “The Seventh Sign” heralds a secret, a sign of destiny that turns the path, and “Moments of Change” mark the step across the threshold.
It concludes with “When Dreams Come True”, a variation of the beginning. Yet what once sounded as longing now returns as experience. The circle closes – not in stillness, but in completion.
Thus, “The Finest Honor” becomes a resonant mirror of life: a cycle of departure, remembrance, insight, and homecoming. Within its music lies the celebration of the greatest gift – the awareness of one’s own existence.

The Finest Honor

🌹 Rose Garden Fantasies

A musical space of stillness, where sounds unfold like delicate blossoms.
Gentle piano melodies trace fine patterns, cello tones full of warmth and comfort embrace the listener, while bright woodwinds open the sky above this imaginary garden.

Here, time passes more slowly, almost imperceptibly. Each note shimmers like a drop of morning dew, each chord spreads like rose petals touched by the wind. Nothing seeks to be told, nothing explained – the music simply exists, quiet yet full of strength, like an invisible current that carries.

These sounds invite you to pause: for a peaceful afternoon, for moments of creative reflection, or for gently sinking into your own inner world.
No drama, no haste – only the presence of sound, merging with silence and leaving the feeling of having entered a secret garden, where everything glows softly and speaks without needing words.

Rose Garden Fantasies Vol. 1

This compilation is a cyclic weave of silent images and the tender spaces between feelings. Fragile piano motifs intertwine with the cello’s warm depth and the clarinet’s airy voice. Orchestral dynamics act as living colours rather than mere accompaniment — they breathe, recede, and make room for delicate gestures. The pieces orbit themes of transience, farewell, and gentle rediscovery: the slow letting-go of "The Long Goodbye", the soft fading of day into evening in "When Day Falls Into Evening", the salt‑tinged melancholy of the sea in "Intermezzo No 1", the dawning hush by the lake in "The Quiet Whisper Of The Lake at Dawn", and the quiet dedication to those we hold dear in "In Thoughts of All Those We Love". Ideal as a companion for quiet hours, absorbed reading, or meditative moments.

The Rose Garden - A Rediscovery Within The Fade

🍏 The Smell Of Apple Pie
A canon in the spirit of Bach — yet deeply personal.

The piano begins quietly, a melody like the first sunlight on dusty windowpanes, a thought born from the morning's dream. Gradually, cello, clarinet, and oboe join in — as if memories themselves were making music from old diaries. Their voices float, circle, intertwine like wind through grain fields, like light dancing on water, finely woven, like autumn threads in a web spun by time.

The music doesn't grow louder — it grows deeper, like a tree rising from the soil of remembrance. Each note breathes — a whisper of childhood, a longing wrapped in golden sound. The choir rises, clear and luminous, like voices drawn from the heart’s core. It carries the listener through time and space until the orchestra shapes the finale — not a fanfare, but a homecoming: chords like open arms, a sound that embraces rather than calls, like the moment a familiar door swings open and the scent of apple pie says: “Welcome home.”

A musical memory — of warmth, of light, of the quiet glow of days long past.

The Smell Of Apple Pie

"The House at the End of the Street" - A place that waits — not loudly, but with shadows.

You turn the final corner, and there it stands: The house that once held everything. But now it feels different — larger, quieter, unfamiliar.

The windows no longer greet like old friends — they watch. The door still knows your footsteps, but it doesn’t ask if you’ve come to stay.

The music speaks of childhood, but also of what has changed. Of voices that have fallen silent, of rooms that carry memories — not only bright ones, but those long left untouched.

This piece isn’t a homecoming, but a return to what was left unsaid. A sound that wanders between light and darkness. A house that remains — even after you’ve long gone.

The House At The End Of The Street

“Along the Old Railway Line”
A quiet path that holds more than footsteps – it keeps the echo of a first love.

The tracks lie still, yet deep within, something moves. Where once two shadows walked in harmony, a trace remains – barely visible, yet deeply felt.

The laughter of those days still drifts through the trees. And even when silence took its place, a soft hope remained:
That one day, those familiar footsteps might return.
Perhaps hesitant, perhaps smiling.

This music doesn’t speak of endings, but of waiting with the heart.
Of walking not from habit – but in faith that love sometimes finds its way back.

Along The Old Railway Line

"Aunt Eleanor’s Room" - A space that answers softly — to a story once thought to be without a home.

The door opens slowly. Dust dances in the light filtering through old curtains. Every object seems to speak — of days long gone, of voices that once laughed, of dreams that never fully disappeared.

This music doesn’t speak loudly — it whispers. It brushes past porcelain, books, and faded photographs. It remembers a time that stands still — not out of neglect, but out of love.

This piece is a quiet reply. Not a contrast, but a continuation. A sound that says: Even those who seemed forgotten left traces. And sometimes, a single room is enough to know someone truly lived.

Aunt Eleanor's Room

"Back Home" - A path not new — yet it feels different.

With every step, something returns: A scent, a sound, a glimpse of days long past. The landscape drifts by, but it’s the memories that move. Joy is present — yet tinged with the colors of yesterday.

Voices once familiar echo softly. Places seem smaller, but larger in the heart. The music follows this inner film — not loud, but with the tenderness only memory knows.

This homecoming isn’t just a destination. It’s a reunion with what was, with what remained, and with the part of us that never truly left.

"Moments of Change" - A moment not loud — yet everything shifts.

Something begins to crumble, not seen, but felt. A thought loosens, a feeling emerges. Time pauses briefly, as if listening. And then: movement. Not rushed, but necessary.

This music speaks of transitions not chosen, but lived. Of the courage to let go without knowing what comes next. Of silence that isn’t empty, but full of meaning. A soundscape for those moments when life reshapes itself — quietly, solemnly, and without return.

Moments Of Change

"Reflection" - A quiet thought unfolding — cautious, fragile, and true.

The main melody rises from piano chords, not boldly, but gently — as if opening a space where memory and feeling meet. The cello follows with deep warmth, like an echo from the past. The clarinet enters, bright and tender — an inner dialogue barely spoken.

Reflection

"Ghost Hour At The Central Graveyard"

When midnight falls over Simmering, a different Vienna begins to breathe.

The gates remain closed, but the city listens. Between marble tombs and silent paths, voices rise — not in fear, but in remembrance.

A quiet waltz drifts through the trees, echoing laughter, longing, and the charm of old songs. The piano walks like footsteps on gravel, the cello draws shadows through time, the oboe sighs with the breath of memory. The orchestra unfolds like mist, and the choir rises — not solemn, but familiar, like a tune Vienna never forgets.

This music bows to Wolfgang Ambros — to his wit, his melancholy, and to the Vienna that lives even where silence reigns.

It is not a requiem. It is a nocturnal visit, a wink between worlds, a musical “Long live the Central Graveyard” — this time, in minor key.

Ghost Hour At The Central Graveyard

"The Leaves Are Falling, Falling From Far Away"

A musical autumn — composed, yet full of transience.

The voices enter one by one, like leaves letting go — not hurried, but in gentle succession. A canon unfolds, clear and measured, yet tinged with melancholy.

The piano lays the ground, the cello traces time, the orchestra breathes in warm tones, and the choir rises — not in grandeur, but like a quiet prayer.

The music echoes Rilke’s words: “And yet there is one who holds this falling infinitely gently in his hands.” So too does this piece — a graceful letting go, a soft dance of leaves, carried by light, air, and memory.

The Leaves Are Falling, Falling From Far Away

"The Seventh Sign" - A call from another world — hidden in sound, carried by light.

The piano begins alone, playing a melody that doesn’t ask, but remembers. It feels like a key to something forgotten — a quiet impulse from deep within. Gradually, other voices join: The violin breathes shadows into light, the cello grounds the moment, the orchestra whispers of things that once were. The choir rises like mist — not loud, but like an echo from a time beyond time.

This music isn’t a riddle to be solved. It is a sign — the seventh. A moment between knowing and believing, between sound and silence, between what was — and what may still come.

The Seventh Sign

"Realization" - A musical journey from inner longing to lived truth.

This piece speaks of the strength it takes to recognize oneself — and to become. Of a dream transformed into reality, not loudly, but gently and sincerely. Music that doesn’t command, but accompanies. A soundscape of inner maturity.

Realization

"Cycle of Life" - A musical flow that renews itself — calm, dignified, and quietly moving.

A simple theme unfolds in canon: The violin begins, the cello follows, the piano connects — each voice contributing to a shared journey. The orchestra frames the development with gentle depth, allowing space for change and return.

The music reflects life’s rhythm: Birth, growth, farewell — and renewal. Echoing Pachelbel’s spirit not through quotation, but through feeling. A circle that doesn’t close, but carries forward.

Cycle of Life

"When Dreams Come True" - The moment where everything begins — and ends.

A final chord — and suddenly, the melody from the beginning returns, now fully realized. The piano gently unfolds familiar motifs, carried by the quiet certainty that grew from every first note.

Cello and violin weave warmth and longing together, as if past wishes had found their shape. Oboe and clarinet whisper memories that begin to glow — a trace of magic in the air.

The orchestra rises, not in triumph, but in stillness: Here, the circle closes. Here, all the hopes that accompanied us shine. And in this quiet radiance, it becomes clear: If you dream deeply enough, dreams do come true.

When Dreams Come True

"Sometimes Dreams Come True" - A quiet embrace in sound — full of hope, vulnerability, and trust.

The piano begins with gentle tones, as if listening before speaking. The cello responds with warmth and depth — like a memory slowly turning into comfort. Clarinet and oboe trace delicate lines of light and longing, fleeting yet clear. The orchestra doesn’t rise to triumph, but to carry — like a loving hand that says: You’re not alone.

This piece is a tribute to the small miracles that often arrive quietly. It speaks of dreams not demanded, but tenderly hoped for. Of hope that isn’t loud, but deeply felt. A musical prayer for those moments when life answers softly.

Sometimes Dreams Come True

"Still Raining" - A sound that falls — steady, patient, without haste.

No story, no destination. Just drops that come and go. A rhythm that doesn’t ask, but simply remains.

The melody wanders through variations, like rain on windowpanes — sometimes soft, sometimes searching, like a thought that drifts away.

And while everything outside keeps moving, this moment stays: It’s still raining. And that’s enough.

Still Raining

"Traces In The Snow Passed In Time" - A gentle look back — fleeting, delicate, filled with silent memory.

Traces once visible slowly fade. The moment they were made has long passed. What remains is the echo of something quiet, yet meaningful. Time carries everything away — and still, something lingers.

This piece doesn’t speak of farewell, but of transformation. Of what was, and what quietly endures beneath the surface. A musical afterimage in the snow.

Traces In The Snow Passed In Time

"Fool's Coronation On The Imperial Throne" - A theatrical composition for piano, cello, violins, orchestra, and choir.

Majesty gives way to masquerade. The piano opens with hesitant irony, the cello murmurs from the depths of forgotten truths. Violins weave between mockery and longing, while the choir sings with solemn grandeur — yet every word feels strangely hollow. The orchestra swells in ceremonial splendor, as if celebrating a noble coronation. But beneath the brilliance lies absurdity: The fool ascends the throne, and no one objects.

A musical reflection on vanity, power, and the quiet collapse of meaning. Is it satire? Is it tragedy? Perhaps both — and perhaps neither.

Fool's Coronation On The Imperial Throne

"Not On This Day" - A quiet refusal, wrapped in contemplation.

The piano speaks in fragmented phrases — uncertain, searching, resisting the weight of inevitability. The clarinet drifts through stillness, its voice fragile yet persistent, like a thought that won't quiet. The cello hums beneath it all, steady and unresolved, echoing the ache of something not yet accepted. The orchestra leans in softly, not to command but to witness — a backdrop of tension held with restraint.

This music doesn’t rage. It reflects. It lingers in the pause before decision, in the space where one still hopes for another ending. Not today, it seems to say. Not this day. And that, too, is a kind of courage.

Not On This Day

"No Goodbye Is Forever" - A quiet musical comfort — carried by piano, cello, clarinet, and a sensitive orchestral backdrop.

The piano begins with gentle chords, like a whisper from memory. The cello adds depth and warmth, its phrases speaking of closeness that endures. The clarinet floats above — bright and fragile, like a ray of light through sorrow. The orchestra surrounds it all with quiet grandeur, as if to say: What we love remains.

This piece isn’t a goodbye — it’s a promise: That love continues to resonate, even when voices fall silent. A musical embrace for those we miss — and who are never truly gone.

No Goodbye Is Forever

"The Long Goodbye" - A musical struggle with letting go — intense, searching, and deeply felt.

The piano opens with fractured chords, like thoughts caught between holding on and release. The clarinet enters with fragile, almost plaintive phrases — its voice wavering between longing and resistance. The cello grounds the piece with resonant depth, echoing closeness that once was. The orchestra rises slowly, like a wave of emotion that can no longer be held back.

This piece doesn’t speak of endings, but of the long path toward them — of farewells that unfold not in a single moment, but in countless quiet gestures. The music sways between tenderness and turmoil, between memory and defiance. And when it finally fades, it leaves behind a silence that doesn’t oppress, but lingers.

The Long Goodbye

"Waiting for Nothing" - A chamber-inspired piece for piano, cello, oboe, clarinet, and orchestra. Delicate tones, restrained gestures — a musical moment suspended in time, where waiting no longer holds expectation. Melodies drift, linger, dissolve: like thoughts lost in stillness. The orchestra breathes gently, offering presence without insistence. A soundscape between emptiness and emotion — melancholic, floating, timeless.

Waiting For Nothing

"The Rose Garden" - A musical space of stillness and light.

The piano opens gently — like first steps on dew-covered grass. The cello adds depth and warmth, while the clarinet glides above like a bird over blooming paths. The orchestra unfolds softly and with color, not as backdrop but as living presence: A rose garden where time slows, where joy shines quietly, not loudly. A place of peace — not distant, but close.

This music doesn’t seek to tell a story — it simply is: Like a quiet afternoon beneath rose petals. Like a smile that lingers.

The Rose Garden

"Moments in Life "

A celebration of the present — bright, alive, and full of heartbeat.

Life dances in small gestures: A laugh that spreads. A glance that connects. A day that simply works. This music celebrates the now — with open arms and a smile in every note.

The piece begins like a sunrise, unfolds like joy, and carries the listener through heights and horizons, as if each moment whispers: “I’m here — and I’m beautiful.”

The choir rises like a beam of light, the orchestra bursts into color, and everything sounds like a promise: Life may not be perfect, but it is truly wonderful.

Moments in Life

"In Thoughts of All Those We Love" - A quiet musical tribute — composed for piano, cello, clarinet, and orchestra.

The piano opens gently, like an inner reflection. The cello responds with deep warmth, a voice drawn from memory. The clarinet adds a touch of light — a fragile spark between sorrow and solace. The orchestra unfolds with restraint, offering space and support, never overwhelming.

This piece is a tender greeting to those who have shaped our lives — near or far, present or remembered. A soundscape that doesn’t seek closure, but carries us forward. Between loss and connection, music emerges that remains.

In Thoughts Of All Those We Love

🎶 "Like the Gentle Wind at Dawn" 
A breath of light and sound awakens—piano and cello greet the day with delicate gestures. Clarinet and oboe brush the dusk, lending the melody warmth and wistfulness. Gradually, the strings unfold, until the full orchestra blossoms in radiant beauty: a sonic landscape filled with peace, hope, and natural grace—like wind silently sweeping through the morning twilight.
This music does not speak, it breathes.
Not a beginning, but an awakening.
A sound like wind — invisible, gentle, present.

Like The Gentle Wind At Dawn

🎶 "When Thoughts Fall Silent"
A quiet opening: The piano feels its way through stillness, each note like a step inward. The cello answers with warm, resonant depth — two voices creating a space where thoughts no longer press forward, but slowly fade.

The clarinet rises gently, not to lead, but to breathe alongside. It weaves between the tones like a distant breeze brushing past forgotten memories. Gradually, the violins appear — weightless, translucent — until time itself seems to dissolve into sound.

The piece remains restrained, yet filled with inner richness — a moment in which everything is said without a single word. A soundscape of stillness, longing, and quiet release.

When Thoughts Fall Silent

🌊 "Intermezzo No 1" – A Whisper of Time 
A single note emerges – the piano, like a first step on damp sand. Tentative, searching, it carries silence within, as if listening for echoes of days gone by. The clarinet rises like a breath of wind sweeping across the sea, its voice filled with longing – for what was, and what never fully fades. Then the cello enters: deep and tender, like waves arriving, breaking, and in their retreat, erasing footprints, scattering thoughts. Thus the melody becomes a mirror of memory – melancholic, fleeting, beautiful. A walk along the shore of time, where every sound is a lost moment, and every pause a quiet farewell.

Intermezzo No. 1

🌙 “The Garden of Lost Dreams”

In the twilight of memory lies a garden, woven from fleeting melodies and forgotten hues. Here, dreams once radiant still bloom — gently stirred by the wind of time.

The music is a quiet step on moss-covered ground, a whisper among the branches of longing. The piano scatters silver droplets into the silence, like dew upon the leaves of faded thoughts. The clarinet exhales shadows of voices long gone, and the cello carries the stillness only the heart can comprehend.

“The Garden of Lost Dreams” is not a place — it is a state of the soul, an echo of what might have been. A soundscape of hope and transience, slowly dissolving into mist, yet never fully fading.

The Garden of Lost Dreams

🎼 The Gentle Breath of Passing Time
From the cycle “The Rose Garden Fantasies”

Like the last ray of sunlight shimmering in the dew upon rose petals, this composition unfolds in the most delicate lines of sound. The melodies drift through the air like silken threads – barely tangible, carried by the wind, fleeting yet woven with memory.

Between shimmering harmonies and filigree motifs, a fine fabric of music emerges – one that does not lament transience, but embraces it tenderly. It is the quiet threshold where summer takes its leave: warmth fades, while the first heralds of autumn glimmer in scattered sparks of sunlight and in the whisper of the wind.

Each tone gently releases itself from silence, dissolves in the breath of time, and leaves behind a trace of light in the shadow of the blossom. The music becomes a soft dialogue between presence and remembrance – like a rose petal drifting away, and a fragrance that lingers.

The Gentle Breath Of Passing Time

An Afternoon at the Fair
From the very first notes, a gate to another world opens: piano, cello, clarinet, and flute rise together – like a colorful fair that, in one instant, reveals all its voices, colors, and scents. Soon after, strings and oboes join, and the sound gains depth, as if new paths, stalls, and attractions unfold before the listener’s eyes.
Though rooted in F-sharp minor, the music carries a mysterious shimmer. Between sparkling vitality and quiet melancholy, a tension arises that makes the beauty of transience audible. Behind every cheerful motif lies the gentle reminder that no moment lasts forever – and it is in this fleetingness that its true beauty is found.
The piano is the pulse of the afternoon, sometimes bright, sometimes restrained, while the cello grounds the walk through the crowd with its depth. The clarinet swirls playfully, like the laughter of children, while the flute dances lightly, like a carousel spinning in the sunlight. Strings and oboes expand the picture – they give space to the scene, blending colors together and letting memories take shape.
What emerges is a small cosmos: a musical stroll across the fairground, filled with fleeting joy, carried by wonder, touched by melancholy. And in the end, the music does not break off, but fades like evening settling over the square – a soft afterglow in which lights dim, voices drift away, and yet an echo remains in the heart.

An Afternoon at the Fair

The music begins like the last warm breath of summer. The piano draws fine lines across the calm skin of the water; the cello answers in deep melancholy, singing of falling leaves. A clarinet drifts in like a breath that carries memories, and above it the flute hovers—a light losing itself in the mist.

Autumnal, yet not somber: it is a time of change. What is old passes away in gold, the new still lies hidden. The music paints this transition—gently, tentatively, full of longing and quiet confidence. Harmonies dissolve, time stretches, until everything comes to rest in a silent moment.

Then, almost inaudibly, a new sound begins. The flute lifts, the piano opens the space, and the lake seems to whisper: the morning is ready.

The Quiet Whisper Of The Lake at Dawn

A quiet transition: The music begins like light touching water—tentative, fleeting, almost uncertain. Lines unfold gently, as if the day were saying goodbye not with finality, but with a lingering thought. Sounds rise, drift, return—like wind moving through trees without asking to stay.

This is no dramatic sunset, but a fading. Harmonies dissolve, rhythms slow, until everything settles into a moment of stillness. An evening that doesn’t begin, but yields—like a memory that warms without asking.

When Day Falls Into Evening

🕊️ Where The Birds Gather Before Their Passage South
The leaves wear their late-season glow, mist drapes the fields like breath, and the first birds begin to gather — circling in silence above the treetops, readying themselves for the long journey south. It is a moment of transition: summer has faded, the day leans into dusk, and the wind begins to whisper of distant warmth.

The music follows this quiet movement, not with haste, but with remembrance. Its sounds unfold like light dissolving into stillness — gentle, breathing, full of foreboding. What fades does so not abruptly, but like a thought slowly slipping away. And as all things retreat into slumber, a long sleep begins — not as an end, but as a promise: that something will return, when the time is right.

Where The Birds Gather Before Their Passage South

🌫️ Lost in Nowhere

A musical journey through the spaces between remembering and forgetting.

Delicate piano phrases trace footsteps through fog, while the cello speaks in deep arcs of paths once wandered. The clarinet breathes questions into the wind — fleeting thoughts that vanish before they’re grasped. And the flute, like a distant birdcall, draws shimmering lines through silence, light yet longing.

Between light and shadow, between yesterday and never, a soundscape unfolds that knows neither place nor time. A piece about being lost — and the quiet wonder that lives within it.

Lost in Nowhere

The Forgotten Moment

It begins on the threshold of silence. A single thought falls like the first raindrop onto still water, drawing quiet circles.

From the depths, a feeling ascends, formless at first, a warm shadow searching for contour. It is the heavy breath of memory, an echo that as yet bears no name.

Slowly, it takes shape. A longing begins to sing, voices weaving into an intimate dialogue. The twilight deepens, filled with the bittersweet colour of those moments thought to be lost.

Until a sudden, clear beam of light breaks through the mist. It illuminates the scene for one precious instant. The feeling becomes clear, the memory suddenly present—tangible, luminous, and painfully beautiful.

"The Forgotten Moment" is the capturing of this fleeting instant: a rediscovery within the fade, just before the silence returns.

The Forgotten Moment

 A river drifts through reverie, not to arrive, but to linger.

Its waters are woven from memory and mist, each ripple a forgotten thought, each bend a breath of silence. In this sonic landscape, time loses its urgency, replaced by the gentle current of introspection.

The piano speaks in droplets — soft syllables of dawn falling onto the surface of time. It is the heartbeat of a morning that hasn't quite broken, delicate and hesitant. Against this backdrop, the clarinet sighs like wind through unopened letters, carrying secrets that were never meant to be told aloud.

From the depths, the cello hums from beneath the stream, a grounding force, a voice that never needed words to convey the weight of history. Above it all, the oboe rises like fog, hovering between what was and what might have been, creating a texture that feels almost touchable.

This music does not move linearly — it dreams. It does not end with a cadence — it dissolves into the ether. And in its dissolving, silence echoes — not loudly, but eternally.

Listen with headphones for the best immersive experience. 🎧

In The River Of Reverie Silence Echoes Eternal

🎶 Memories in the Darkness of Passing Time
Time is a river that carries us relentlessly forward, yet it leaves its traces—not carved in stone, but etched within. Memory is the echo of that river: fragmented, fleeting, and yet endowed with a power that shapes us.

This work moves within the tension between forgetting and preserving. It asks whether the past is truly gone, or whether it continues to live within us—hidden, yet present. Each sound is like a fragment of a story that can no longer be told, and yet is reborn in the act of listening.

Memories in the Darkness of Time Past is a meditation on the fragile bond between humanity and time. The music opens a space in which we encounter ourselves: beings who dwell in the moment, yet are permeated by the past. It reminds us that memory is not merely retrospection, but also presence—an invisible foundation upon which we stand.

Thus the piece becomes a philosophical journey: a reflection on what remains when all else fades, and on the quiet truth that we ourselves are part of that darkness, illuminated by the fragile light of memory.

Memories In The Darkness Of Passing Time

As Wolf Hagen, I compose music for the silence between the notes. Drawing from the tradition of great masters like Bach and Pachelbel, I find inspiration to weave baroque clarity with the emotional complexity of our time.
The interplay of piano and cello stands at the heart of my work – two voices that complement, challenge, and exist in harmonic tension with each other. I add orchestral elements with care, never to dominate, but to open spaces: for reflection, for stillness, for those precious moments of pause.
My compositions are not statements, but invitations – to discover hidden emotions, to find quiet in a noisy world.

Wolf Hagen

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