What is experience, but a husk, made up of moments in time, formed by myths, habits and rituals, molded by the country we call home. Who are we, but spectres facing the ambiguity of the coming day, while navigating the winding roads of our past.
What is left, but to make sense of it all through the gaze of a lover, discover passion through the kindship of music, embrace life, through the ancient fibers of the land.