quiet devastation at the hands of a metaphor. a mystery drifts in on a warm breeze from Africa, rustling the leaves as sunset slowly burns the day to ashen black. Miles Davis dances with North Korean propaganda in the cool twilight.

poetic, existentialist ambiguity gives way to bracing tension with the gradual subtlety of light creeping into the morning. Mowg’s score bestows a soft menace on everything. a beguiling swell of cloistered emotional heft, and what a rousing coda! my heart aches for the greenhouse: hopeful, promising, ephemeral, lost in a puff of smoke.