1. |
God-El the incomplete
02:01
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2. |
Baila Borges!
01:28
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3. |
Inverted swing
02:17
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4. |
T0 chase
02:18
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5. |
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6. |
Lady MB
01:17
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7. |
The scent of incense
03:23
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All of a sudden, Jade sensed the penetrating stare of a stream of people pinned on her.
She contracted and expanded her diaphragm in slow, regular intervals. Just how she had practiced years before.
In. And out. In. And out.
With each cycle, the movement tightened. The flow of air into her lungs faltered, seemingly impeded by some invisible obstacle.
The surrounding figures began to withdraw, dissolving in a thick fog bank. Yet she could still make out their eyes. Like wildfires lighting the night sky of a distant clearing.
They were inscrutable eyes, both small and large. They were inquisitive and pitiful eyes. They were eyes which judged her every expression, waiting to capture the slightest sign of weakness.
The brown-haired woman turned her head frantically, tracing a stuttering spiral in the air. She wanted to escape those gazes at any cost, which felt like shards of glass stuck in her flesh.
But her efforts failed. There was no release from that galaxy of fires.
Almost completely transfigured, the homunculi re-emerged from the fog and began marching threateningly towards Jade.
Multitudes of arms fought voraciously to grab a piece of her body.
Jade froze, gripped by helplessness.
Gasping desperately for oxygen, she recognised the bittersweet taste of incense. It sounded like a dissonant chord resonating in the halls of a bare building.
The pungent fragrance flooded her nostrils, snaking into her brain.
How could she have forgotten that scent?
Walking hand in hand with her grandmother, Jade crossed a large circular square hosting a marble column in its centre, as tall as the blood-red sky.
They entered a large, faceless building and sat down on a wooden bench. The smiling face of her grandfather, seated to the right of her child self, greeted her with a gentle wave.
But Jade had no time for the old man.
A pungent smell demanded her attention. She stretched her diaphragm with every sinew of strength in her body, to savour each tone of the incense’s fragrance.
In. And out.
"Where are you?"
In. And out. In. And out.
"Why did you leave me?"
In. And out. In. And out. In. And out.
"Why did I leave you?"
The light suddenly pierced the darkness of the room and flooded Jade’s dead eyes. Curled up and small in the centre of the bed, she asked, "Why is there an altar where there has always been a desk?" The thought made her laugh, though she was unsure why.
Jade slowly raised her face and met the eyes of the husband, standing motionless at the door. She lacked the courage to hold his gaze for more than a moment. Numb, she awaited the verdict. "Francesca called. Your mum is no more."
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8. |
Siberian guilt
02:37
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9. |
Farewell Bashmachkin
01:13
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10. |
Searching for home
03:21
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11. |
Skewed thoughts
01:47
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Valerio Velardo Málaga, Spain
When I don't code, I research or write music.
When I don't research, I write music or code.
When I don't write music, I code or research.
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