darktriadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/--6
darktriadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/--6
darktriadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/--6
darktriadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/--6
darktriadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/--6

I imagine that the embrace of death, for you, must be like slipping into the seas of your adopted homeland. Warm. Not a single piece of snow in sight, even in December. I imagine you in the sea off Vladivostok, maybe on one of our secret holidays, smiling as you sink deeper and deeper into an endless sleep.

The reality is probably harsher. I know that you died alone, far from Anadyr, without our candle-lights during the blackouts or our cassettes. You didn't have your immense collection of Turgenev with you during your descent into the numb unknown; you merely had fear and helplessness. Just death. Intimately.

You'll probably pretend not to enjoy this album. You'll say, from beyond the infinite void, that you don't want me to write songs about you. What would I give to hear you saying these words? Probably more than I have. For now, take my time.

I imagine myself thirty years from now in your hometown, walking across the bridge, aimlessly wandering towards the horizon. Arctic hysteria. I imagine us together, during the middle of winter, staring out into the cold. With imagination comes memory.

I was sent west. I returned. You drifted south. And you're still there. Forever. Until the Sun itself burns this world to a forgotten husk. Until the bells of your Quito church ring out in mourning for the last time. Until your body drifts between the stars in that vast interstellar ocean.