The texture of skies like taken from romantic paintings. A tired light to take rest in calm darkness. Across the street, windows are still open wide, fragments of serious conversations mixed into easy music, accompanied by the sound of dishes and glasses. Candles flickering in the dark, the late bus departing from the station, a driver in his professional clothes heading home following the small spot of a burning cigarette down the streets. A picked guitar, individual notes, an improvisation starting to take shape and yet unwilling to move beyond that early stage. Incenses. More liner notes along this page. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.