More von Dir

They plunge their instruments into the frozen ground, their feet bowed, their eyes gleaming with the nebulae of the musical universe, their breath and pulse skipping a beat and hitting their strings. The walls crack, space-time, time-space, the airport, the pipe-space cease to exist, their sounds pick you up and carry you on and on, like a breeze swaying a branch... but it's not a breeze, it's a hurricane, a sirocco, a typhoon and you only have a chance to survive if you listen hard!

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