The Waves

A matter of pace, an analog memory…

Feel safe: like newborn, take your first careful steps on a clean slate while Maayan Nidam is your supervisor. Naïve and happy, you leave carbonbon footprints on your way into the positives. Then a faster pace: some tribal folk music from a tiny world, where people dance around an LED fire, commands a gallop to the one and ollam. Latinfection guaranteed.

Your nonplus motion interferes with environmental geometry. A memory from an analog past flashes like a daydream. Upward and rising, your smile workout succeeds while scintillating waves say “hello!”. Having grown up to a motorik being, the determined goal however never appears. The journey into a perfect storm is the reward. Maayan sends you some motivating words.

Then have a break and jump on the light train of thoughts to enjoy blurred reflections: on the water and in your mind. Sing your body beautiful and free. Words come in bubbles, a heart-throb away from a light tower. Feel like stumbling into new adventures on a pathless terrain.

Slowly and cautious, the novemberme, which is the one that approaches dawn, celebrates tristesse with a funny accent. Kick the blues with a beat. Somewhere lost but regenerated, find sisyphos’ generator of vitality. A nascent religious mood at the Autobahn service station fades into the fog.

Finally, the circle of pace is almost closed. After laughter of amazement, Maayan leaves you with a soothing mantra of confidence: an everyday ritual fun you should indulge yourself in. It comes in waves.