At the beginning of quarantine I finally got into Ableton seriously, went into a fugue state, and woke up ten days later holding an album made out of voice memos I’d had on my phone.  The art is a picture I found in the philosophic collection I’ve been working on these past five years.  There’s no real identifying information, but presumably that’s a shot PB took in Tibet or Mongolia in the early 20th Century.  Or somewhere else, who knows — it really doesn’t matter.  I’d like to stop talking for a while.