Brings me back to being obsessed with his early acoustic albums. I wasn't a huge fan of that genre, but Bibio felt like something else. A guitar strummed at ease in a cabin far from my home. A safe place that ensures that the roots grow to blossoms. A place recently abandoned by man, reclaimed. Stepping foot into some primordial grove where the tune swings between trees. A place that's not just safe, but the center of some solar syzygy. A place where the strings thrum in accord for ages. This is the place that your cat/dog went to in 199X when they died. Their spirits rise and dance upon the circle of a glowing earthwork here. No lie, no illusion. You really have one last chance to say goodbye before they drift into the sky.