Sucré Salé

Like blurred frames from an old movie: fragments of melodies, half-understood phrases, flashes of images - all of this comes together in a kaleidoscope where it is difficult to understand where the beginning is and where the end is. In one place, there is talk of roofs and bays, in another, a smile turns into a small celebration, and somewhere far away, Tamatave flashes by, like a postcard from another world.

There is a feeling of a random conversation overheard on the street: sometimes serious, sometimes funny, sometimes suddenly turning into poetry that even the author himself did not expect. The music here doesn't so much keep the rhythm as embrace all these fragments of thought and turn them into a single dance. There is a logic to this chaos: life still turns out to be sweet and salty, with strange paths and joy that breaks through from time to time in the simplest details.