It's summertime. The saxophone jazz
sounds are pirouettetting the waves
to find their own balance. It's a mauve
inner dance in almost everything around.
More exactly, the melodious movable
sounds become soundable movement
needing a reverberation time to dissipate
the energy. The movement releases its own
purity to become simple fecundity. The pulsed
sound waves are also old memories lost in the
natural green. The saxophone looks much
more like a Tahitian prince dancing his love
on the sand. The singing mauve sea waves
have a sadness taste at sunset. The last one
is a watery mermaid and he embraces her
while searching the high. The sounds need
touch and life. They need to dematerialize
and to disappear into the universe. The
saxophone remains a solitaire keeping
safe his evanescent hermetic equilibrium.