As celestial beings descend to Earth vitiating its population, the world’s order unbalances. Initiated by these terms, a tragic fall leads to the parturition of crucial opposites: Hell and Heaven’s circles.
Time is a scraping engine, and the piece is a loose attempt to put it in motion. Musicians are four old gramophones, constantly in phase, granulating some old stuff. During the journey: the on and off of the light in a grey hospital corridor. And a scent, as of october leaves, as of tempests.