Food - Thomas Stronen Iain Ballamy
Mercurial Balm

Here we are finally home.

The day is heavy as lead.

Fatigue, depression, emptiness.

Astronomical distance from any idea of happiness.

I open a beer. And then another one.

And another.

I turn on the stereo. Mercurial Balm. ECM. Thomas Stronen and Iain Ballamy.

Ten seconds, mists of electronics and sax.

Norwegian breaths.

Ships setting sail and docking.

Ghost vessels.

Hearts of percussion.

And then again the sax. It’s Ballamy, a ship on the horizon.

Lines of ice.

The alcohol and the anchor rise.

The North Sea cradles me, to Stronen’s wind.

Not just percussion, but sea breezes.

Everything flows through my veins.

And rises.

Salt and sea breezes.

Nebular, Celestial Food, Ascendentant, Phase, Astral, Moonpie.

Titles and sounds that open mists.

And again the sax.

Again from the heart.