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text/voice : Black Sifichi
www.blacksifichi.com

Black Sifichi (voice/text) + Hervé Vincenti (guitars / samplers / keys) + Raphaelle Rinaudo (harp) + Andy Diagram (trumpet / electronics) + Abdenor Natouri (double bass) + Perceval Bellone (saxophone/clarinet) + Philippe Petit (laptop/theremin)

Summer's over, if you could
have called it that.
But the air is pleasant,
it's not too hot.
He's sitting by the open window.
He 's pulled the curtains aside
He's sitting in the moonlight.
The white light spilling like milk
Over his transparent skin.
His bones invisible,
Like sticks in a paper bag.
The cool white light
Alights the clouds.
And I wonder about how his time
Was it compressed .. was it unfolded.
About our lives ..
My father, despite his alzheimers disease,
remembers the name of the moon.
And then he asks me
'How many times have you seen it full ?'
'Hundreds' I answered.
'Wrong. You can only see a full moon 720 in 60 years
if you see it every single night.'
I began to trace back,
I realised I couldn't remember the
last time I had seen a full moon.
So how was my memory ?
Not very good.
So I sat by his side,
By the open window in the night.
We stared up at the sky
Felt the moonbeams on our bodies
Felt the moonbeams in our eyes
Felt the moonbeams in this Glasgow night
The air.
Sitting in the moonbeams,
Looking at the full moon. The white light.
Pure white reflected light.

How many times have you seen the full moon ...?
How many times have you seen the full moon ...?
How many times have you seen the full moon ...?