When I listen to my music I feel as if time embraced me, nostalgia for the fall pervades me, the touch of clutched hands speaking of affection or a walk with a tight collar on a Sunday morning. Emotions are related to music, that’s what I always felt. When joy or sorrow pervades me, they seem to walk along my body leaving behind a halo of melodies.
I long for the freedom of being able to take distance from my own emotions, to listen to a song after years without immediately going back to a memory or a passage. I would like to absorb only the notes, without invoking the past, to slip along a song without photographs, smells and music intertwining and making a whole.
I compose the only music I know how to create. Regardless of the reasons I could find to defend or reject it, nothing would change it. Maybe that’s a kind of restriction for me, but it also calms me down because I can only hope that one day my own notes surprise me.