The professor sat on the terrace of an abandoned tech facility. Once, solar panels were tested here. Now, it looked as if even the Sun itself had lost interest. A few stubborn bushes survived thanks to the rain and defiance. Overhead, an old floodlight kept short-circuiting — a flicker in memory of shifts that would never happen again. Maybe silence had chosen this forgotten perimeter to speak finally.
By his feet sat a flask of Japanese whisky — a gift from Cat. The very one given after their first clean mission. Spacelunch stared into the dark, trying to sense the outlines of life. Things used to be simpler. A home on Earth. A garage where a pet — once just a cat saved from a burning room as a cub — first spoke. “I should’ve never started those experiments,” he thought. But the images came anyway — the action, the laughter, the arguments — all of it made sense once, as long as someone was walking beside him, who could meow outside of protocol. Somewhere between the missions, the mistakes, the tall tales — their bond had dissolved. But by now, it was far too late to analyze anything.
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The professor sat on the terrace of an abandoned tech facility. Once, solar panels were tested here. Now, it looked as if even the Sun itself had lost interest. A few stubborn bushes survived thanks to the rain and defiance. Overhead, an old floodlight kept short-circuiting — a flicker in memory of shifts that would never happen again. Maybe silence had chosen this forgotten perimeter to speak finally.
By his feet sat a flask of Japanese whisky — a gift from Cat. The very one given after their first clean mission. Spacelunch stared into the dark, trying to sense the outlines of life. Things used to be simpler. A home on Earth. A garage where a pet — once just a cat saved from a burning room as a cub — first spoke. “I should’ve never started those experiments,” he thought. But the images came anyway — the action, the laughter, the arguments — all of it made sense once, as long as someone was walking beside him, who could meow outside of protocol. Somewhere between the missions, the mistakes, the tall tales — their bond had dissolved. But by now, it was far too late to analyze anything.
There’s a quiet confidence to Apolinic’s “Sense Of” – the kind that doesn’t raise its voice, yet draws you closer with every bar. Built on a steady pulse and subtle tension, it unfolds with intention: clean percussion, glowing textures, and just enough modulation to keep the air slightly electric.
Time feels gently stretched – suspended between thought and instinct. This is minimalism with restraint, balance, and a quiet sense of motion beneath the surface. A fitting start for Saraw’s debut vinyl – refined, focused, and unmistakably human.
@sarawrecords
spclnch
The professor sat on the terrace of an abandoned tech facility. Once, solar panels were tested here. Now, it looked as if even the Sun itself had lost interest. A few stubborn bushes survived thanks to the rain and defiance. Overhead, an old floodlight kept short-circuiting — a flicker in memory of shifts that would never happen again. Maybe silence had chosen this forgotten perimeter to speak finally.
By his feet sat a flask of Japanese whisky — a gift from Cat. The very one given after their first clean mission. Spacelunch stared into the dark, trying to sense the outlines of life. Things used to be simpler. A home on Earth. A garage where a pet — once just a cat saved from a burning room as a cub — first spoke. “I should’ve never started those experiments,” he thought. But the images came anyway — the action, the laughter, the arguments — all of it made sense once, as long as someone was walking beside him, who could meow outside of protocol. Somewhere between the missions, the mistakes, the tall tales — their bond had dissolved. But by now, it was far too late to analyze anything.
