SIGNAL

Hear that? The sounds rising from the very depths of subconscious, softly emitted by a phonograph. He’s spinning records with kind women’s voices that make your feel as if you were their son. He keeps records of all your ancestors, and he keeps them a secret. Snowflakes of new memories bury him underneath, but that phonograph remains, full of hope. The winter will finally take it’s leave once your mind finds peace. Only then will you hear them and understand who you are and where you came from.