A ceaselessly iridescent work by Mr. Dziewanski, full of deep obeisance for the natural world, bird-life, distant melodic disintegrations and the all-encompassing cosmic drone. This world of incomprehension and poetry is mysteriously always rising and falling, something that is suspended, and nearly always invisible. Its forming distance brings the listener to the oblivion of the body and one finds him/herself situated outside of time. Not for the light of heart but always for the pursuers of the light.
“Creation is here and now. So near is man to the creative pageant, so much a part is he of the endless and incredible experiment, that any glimpse he may have will be but the revelation of a moment, a solitary note heard in a symphony thundering through debatable existences of time. Poetry is as necessary to comprehension as science. It is as impossible to live without reverence as it is without joy.”
– Henry Beston (The Outermost House, 1928)
