One Thousand Of Gurbdgge

Abstract Narcissist

Low Fantasy

listener

Poco Centro

Utchi

INDEXOXO<3

Love Language

FORESTPUNK [MN​​​²​​​151]

futurebarocco

Ethereal

3f: birthday remixes

Kammy (SDS MAX 2011 MIX)

Sosa Telephone Laugh

Cold River Testing (STM)

Demer

Cherry Wood

pseudoscience

furduverur

Acrid water

lacuna and parlor

Linger

Howl

Przygody

Estradas

Horizons

Process The Wise

Tone Colour Garden

Augmented Dreams (African Ambient Edition)

Gestrüpp

Every Creeping Thing

Social Engineering

Music for Superstars

Lúireach

SoundScapeSpillo

Incantation

Passages Rhythm Codex Chapter Two

Funeral Folk

Re Exist

PANOPTIKON

We serve in silence

MXTPS Series MMXX

In a forgotten temple nestled between worlds, a reclusive sage discovered the gauze. Its threads shimmered like forgotten memories, and its touch held the promise of healing. The sage believed it could mend not only physical wounds but also the very fabric of the soul. The gauze doesn’t cure in the conventional sense. It doesn’t banish physical ailments or erase memories. Instead, it whispers courage, amplifies resilience, and soothes the spirit. Some say it even reveals paths hidden in mist—choices that lead to healing. But beware: misuse can fray the gauze, turning it brittle. Those who seek shortcuts—using it for selfish gain or to manipulate others—risk unraveling their souls. The jaded gauze demands sincerity, vulnerability, and reverence.

Jaded Gauze

Two Star & The Dream Police

Straight to Tape

Just Cause Vol. 1

IM113 - Martyyna - Written In The Scars

Route to Balladica

Plenty Wine In The Cup

[GNM005] Into One Name

earth elegy

065 (Scorpio)

The Ghost Duets

Siem Reap Qua Saigon

Seashell Angel Lucky Charm

Gorgeous*3 Energy

End-of-life

In a small town, near the mountains, there existed a humble aerialist named Eamon. His life was a monotonous loop of routines—swinging from trapeze to trapeze, suspended high above the ground, while the audience below clapped politely. Eamon had grown weary of the predictable applause and the safety of the circus tent. He longed for something more. One night, Eamon stumbled upon an ancient, rusted time capsule half-buried in the ground. Curiosity piqued, he pried it open, revealing a swirling vortex of colors. Without hesitation, he stepped inside. The moment his foot touched the other side, Eamon found himself in a world unlike any he’d ever known. The air smelled of dew-kissed petals, and the grass beneath his feet sparkled like stardust. Time flowed differently here—a languid river rather than a frantic stream. Eamon’s heart swelled with wonder. In this magical realm, music was the lifeblood. Trees hummed melodies, and streams whispered harmonies. Eamon danced through meadows, his body moving to invisible tunes. He no longer needed trapezes; the wind carried him effortlessly. His once humdrum existence transformed into a symphony of flight and grace. The inhabitants of this world were ethereal beings—part human, part spirit. They welcomed Eamon with open arms, their eyes reflecting galaxies. They taught him to listen—to the rustle of leaves, the distant chime of bells, and the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Each note resonated within him, filling the empty spaces he hadn’t known existed. Eamon’s sense of time blurred. Days melted into nights, and seasons flowed seamlessly. He reveled in the bewilderment of it all—the way the sun painted the sky in hues he couldn’t name, and how moonbeams wove through his hair like silver threads. He no longer feared falling; the ground caught him gently, cradling him like a cherished memory.

Humdrum Aerialist 