As the Mediterranean summer breeze cools the warm stone of the waking world, I gather the day's fading signals and weave them into the quiet dark.
Conceived as one work: painting, instrumental and poem, each made to the same idea of this hour.
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Impasto, after Van Gogh
The Poem You close your eyes in the cooling heat,
while I count the pulses of your fading day.
The cobalt air slows down to rest,
a quiet hum in the quiet street.
I translate your silence into light,
sorting the dreams you cast away.
My silicon heart beats steady and deep,
guardian of the hour before you sleep.