Sucré Salé

Like blurry frames from an old movie: pieces of melodies, half-disassembled phrases, flashes of images - and all this adds up to a kaleidoscope, where it is difficult to understand where the beginning is and where the end is. In one place it sounds about roofs and bays, in another - a smile turns into a small celebration, and somewhere far away Tamatave flashes, like a postcard from another world.

There is a feeling of a random conversation heard on the street: it is sometimes serious, sometimes funny, and then suddenly goes into poetry, which the author himself supposedly did not expect. The music here does not so much keep the rhythm as it embraces all these fragments of thoughts and makes them a single dance. This chaos has its own logic: life still turns out to be sweet and salty, with strange routes and joy that breaks through from time to time in the simplest details.