Amidst the end of one age and the dawning of a new, a paradoxical soul is born upon a quest. Tenderly rekindled by kindred spirits and doused in the celestial mysteries of his celtic ancestry, it echos the majesty of the sublime.

Reveling in the joys of an endless journey he
follows karma's creepy trail, often tethered by life's trivial pursuits, twisting his moral fibre until it is strong.

Endeavoring suspended animation and deeply hypnotized by kaleidoscopic eyes he walks a topsy turvy tight rope. The liminal balancing act where blurred borders frame a mirror of ambiguity. Unravelling the sedated sentiments of a lucid quest, a parallel shift.

Nestled in the cleavage of a lonesome lament,
Wistfully yearning for a familiar scent,
The guiding ache of his priapic nerve,
strains only for the desire to serve.
To finger nature's throbbing pulse and iron out it's awkward groove.
An orgy of ineffable devotion to bust a hip and make you move. The pelvic funk, to get you up and get on down.

Recycling a single, simple mantra, swirling life to a perpetual standstill, it resonates an exponential feeling.........Love.
The landscape of his soul, where within a wonder lies...

Kleine Reise his modest pastures,
where lambs for the sacrifice are spared to roam.
Immersed in it's wholesome groove,
to take the edge off, hang loose and shmooze.
A little journey that knows no bounds and relentlessly
harbours a playground of sounds.

Nourished by a slow brew,
a chunky stew pot,
a potpourri of delights.
A raw nutty feast of cereal goodness, toasted oats and fruit fromage.
Ketchup canals and cloudy apple juice skies, decorate the landscape where his fantasy resides.

Prompted by the might of a zephyr, leaping from the edge of feather to feather, expecting only just to fly
and catch the rise before the fall.
Yamone!
Life is beautiful after all.