„The Sound of Mullay whirs and whirls around my heart. It’s what wanders through my mind, it’s the hint of folly that frees me from everyday life, an aperture, that unseals in my dreams, though may suddenly close come daylight. It isn’t love, but rather the contrast to nature that we cannot grasp and must never take for granted. It’s the need to escape, to explore, to know the impossible, and thus, the impossibility of knowing.
The Sound is enshrouded in night, the antipode to clarity. It doesn’t just rest in your hands, it’s something you have no control over. Thought, vibration, energy. It’s intangible, an effort. The effort of an insect transforming time, space, and movement all in one moment. Moments of timeless motion, indefinite and ethereal. A curiousness, searching, tingling, musing, wandering, uncertain.
Through art and in vocation.
On Mullay as in Plaine Morte.
Wherever I am.“