RAW CCXXVI: Baco, Erro, Rolo, Peter Bernath

Under the cover of night, when the city falls silent and even the last sparks of light fade away, another world begins to breathe between the cracks.

It is not loud, not inviting — it whispers, watches, and waits.

RAW CCXXIII takes place on the threshold of this world: a crossing, where music is no longer a tool, but a ritual.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Erro emerges from the darkness.

His sounds don’t explode — they creep in, enveloping the space like a fog that asks for no permission.

Into this fractured space arrives Rolo, whose music is not just heard — it happens.

His beats are like the fall of the Tower in the Tarot: unexpected, merciless, purifying.

What you’ve built within yourself — he tears it down, to make room for something more ancient, something more real.

Before the noise can settle, Peter Bernath is already there — not behind the booth, but at the boundary you’ve just crossed.

His music doesn’t accompany you; it leads you.

It feels as though he’s known the map of your soul for a long time.

He doesn’t touch you — yet you feel deeply moved.

And by the time you no longer know how long you’ve been dancing, or when you lost all sense of time, Baco arrives.

He is the one who closes the circle, whose music is no longer even music — more of a mantra, a seal, a final incantation.

The ritual is complete.

Your body returns — but your mind may have stayed behind, on the other side of the sound.