Today was a boring day, a long lap in an old car, an hourglass spinning on and on, and on and on again... Passions vanish that's a fact. But what about this last swing of happy happy happy thoughts. So light and frail you might think, but as mind thinks it has finally caught it in the palm of its imaginary hand, *puff*, so long... Had it simply stand by, hid in a dark part of this room ? or had it run into a corridor to quit this mansion? and if so, from which window? This Tristan would not know, too busy drawing with a radio on a chair to his right.

Amps chirping sound of too many days ago, rags of popularity still hanging from its A, from its C sharp, but for how long nobody wants to know...

'Pray for a good song' says Tristan to his cat. Bad luck, as his cranium fills with shouts possibly originating from an angry, gigantic, and probably hairy polar mammal dying far, far away on a cold night in Alaska... Follows Tristan ranting to his faithful animal about musical industry, its upcoming crash, his willing to buy a Cd by 'Spirit' , his claiming 'I'm a total 'rock n' roll' fan, Janis was bath!'.

But Dalida, for such is this cat's stupid alias among our human community , finds all this way too dull to discuss and sulks into an hazy nap.

Lying on a brown sofa, claws scratching this room's thin air, you wouldn't think Dalida is much like any cat, that is: a solitary, night-prowling, bird-munching small sphinx. And I wouldn't contradict you. For Dalida is as lazy as a cow, and a pacifist, kind of a kitty which shall not stand blood on its crystal fur...

Although from what Tristan knows, Dalida and all his family plan to put a full stop to his musical totalitarism. A conspiracy aiming at annihilating any possibility of having to calmly sit and wait for such a storm to pass: I'm talking about spins of vinyl and stylus casting chords around. Chords by whom? you might ask. Bands lost long ago, with whom words such as stardom could not match for young kids today. And as Tristan risks a look at our world's night sky, tragic and poignant guitar solos coming from antiquity fill his smoky room...