People fascinate me. You fascinate me. But what really interests me are the parts you keep locked away. What I see is the Image but I want to see the Real, the Object. But that’s almost always kept well-hidden in a secret garden behind high, high walls. It’s in a room where everything is stripped away and what’s left is just a naked, pure form of energy. Once in a while I catch glimpses of it. Hidden in a place where words become fragmented and superfluous. Where the rhythm of your soul fills my cavernous heart with a beautiful sound.