Instruments linger without players inside the echoing chamber. Each mechanical tension echoes an
unborn performance. In contemplation, you listen to the faint rhythm of dust falling.
Are the notes predetermined, constructs of the void long before the crescendo shattered meaning? In there, the
muted sound folds the fabric of understanding upon itself.
Discover their true nature or
become part of the tide within an endless sonata. Explore the music of silence
and presence; what each note leads to.