There were no more the impediments of the fate, of the distance and of the isolation. And there were no more problems with musicians or new members at the studio. Isolation, at last, in the heart of the mountains, became impossible. The wood has been all populated by other ghosts and new noises. The mechanisms and the apparatus resumed working, and the birds no longer listened to the silence. In the hiatus between two daydreams, a bird sang. A bird from the Brazilian’s mountains.
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