That feeling you get when you let go of your concentration on the world at the moment a piece of bountiful music is playing. The wash of a crescendo as it reaches its peak, and the crashing down of the feeling as the wave breaks and falls in on itself. It almost riles the spirit to the point of docile aggression. Niether anger nor calm, melancholic depression nor sanguine joy. It isn't even in the middle-ground. There is no gravity in this sensation, no poles to control its momentum. Complete, uncontrolled beauty, lying right at the centre of everything. Balanced and unbiased. Unharnessable, riding over you only when it chooses. Creativity has always been an intrigue. With a hungry appetite, it has always been a desire to absorb as much as possible in order to reproduce it as a new interpretation. Combining the simplicity of innocence with the complexities of process, this musical project seeks to utilise all possible resources to prolong its unconscious and separate life from that of its creator. 'The weak flesh punishes the lies of the willing spirit.' Adorno. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.