You would have never known what that seed was doing under the ground, neither if it was there unless it started to crack the earth so it could show you.
What at the beginning seemed a fragile plant with leafs that would fall if touched by a strong ray of light grew into a tiny tiny tree. Then the tiny tiny tree grew more and more. When it reached your height it began to wrap itself in living flesh and got a heartbeat. It had many many arms with lots and lots of hands instead of branches.
All of those arms were trying to reach you, but you just stood there and stared at them as they were leaning independently from left to right. You then stretched your hands out to touch them. Little by little, getting closer and closer. Then the arms stopped moving. And you stopped reaching out towards them. They started grabbing each other. Because they were shaking and did not want to show fear. Then only one of them tried to reach you again. You hurried up to touch it back with both of your hands. That grasp became safer and safer, making both of you feeling comfortable. So the tree tried to reach you with as many hands as it could. You were enjoying it, but they started shaking again. The things you whispered so honestly seemed to calm them.
After a few moments of peace, your skin turned bit by bit into cold cold stone. The hands of the tree felt it, but kept holding you tighter and tighter as if trying to warm you. In the end, the tree turned to wood again, blending with the nature surrounding you. It rotted soon after that. And there remained your cold statue standing alone, needing nothing, wanting nothing.
Murcof (Fernando Corona) composed Remembranza,, his second full length album, as a way to cope with his mother's illness and imminent death. Unlike his previous minimalistic releases, Remembranza is built on a more complex structure. For the texture of the sound, he used recordings of him and his friends playing classical instruments.
A2. Razón (En 3 Partes)