zaireeka

You often use difficult words yet everything flows so naturally.. you’re great. And then “Musica etnica aliena” is beautiful.

If it has the vintage and melancholic atmosphere of ST, I rush to listen to it. Hi doc

Everything very psychedelic, even the acoustic cylinders and the hyperborean horses of Arcadia..

Among the suggested ones is "Thank goodness Silvio is here." Honestly, I don't understand the relevance.. 🤔

Undoubtedly beautiful. Among your best, capish extroverted and full of lightness. Braf.

Don't tell me that "batture" is also a Tuscanism...

I started listening to it again from the beginning, pretending it’s the first time to avoid any preconceived notions. I look at the time too often (before and during), and when I see it’s more than 6 minutes, I take a deep breath. And I’m a fan of progressive music. That's not a good sign. That said, some tracks really deserve it, as already noted.

Radiohead+Sigur Ros (for the invented language and beyond)+Spiritualized. All very refined and cool, but nothing really new. And above all, little imagination. Excessive enthusiasm and very provincial.

If I ever get struck by this album in a way similar to what’s happening to me with another record lately... But I hope it’s as far removed from that dreadful cover of Tenco, stripped of much of its wonderful harmony and filled with an arrogant and forcedly sophisticated singing. Puah!!

So, only then did Jun Rail lift his head from the desk and turn his gaze towards the closed door. Jun Rail.
The face of Jun Rail.
When the women of Quinnipak looked at themselves in the mirror, they thought of the face of Jun Rail.
When the men of Quinnipak looked at their women, they thought of the face of Jun Rail.
The hair, the cheekbones, the very white skin, the shape of Jun Rail's eyes.
But more than anything else – whether she laughed or screamed or was silent or simply stood there, as if waiting – the mouth of Jun Rail.
The mouth of Jun Rail would not let you rest. It drilled into your imagination, simply.
It smeared your thoughts.
“One day God designed the mouth of Jun Rail. That's where he got that silly idea of sin.” This is how Ticktel told it, who knew about theology because he had worked as a cook in a seminary, or at least that’s what he claimed; it was a prison, others said, stupid – it's the same thing, he would say.
No one could ever manage to draw it, they all said.
The face of Jun Rail, obviously. It resided in the imagination of everyone.
And now it was also there – especially there – turned towards the closed door, because for a moment he had lifted himself from the desk to look at the closed door and say – I am here.