„This album was inspired by some of my short trips, incursions to the lake Teletskoye (Altyn Kӧl – Golden Lake) in the Altai Mountains.
Of all the indescribable beauty, what impressed me most was a fog flowing with streams down the wooded hills and cloaking the water glaze like a shroud.
Foggy sunrises over the lake were not less (and perhaps more) magical than the twilight.
The oriflamme of the day already made themselves felt, but the mind was still on the whirlwind sidelines and out of the vanity of everyday cares when the line between sleep and wake is the most fragile.
This is the time of lucid dreaming: babbling brook, small splashing waves, a lonely fisherman cutting the watery mirror surface …
And somewhere in there, in inaccessible depth … the depth of either dreams or the lake … beneath of the surface of random thoughts, that run like circles on water, on the other side of the fog there is IT keeping out of sight.
Is it the lonely fisherman that IT is looking for?
Sitting on the lakeshore by the very water, I was well aware of where the rumours of aquatic monsters come from different sides of the world.
This is a somewhat disturbing, but attractive by its uniqueness feeling, that when you look at the water rippling, there, out of all this depth of water, someone looks back at you …
By evening, the fog again took what its own.
At first, the ghostly horizons lost the sight, then in the twilight mist, the opposite shore began to melt and then the surface of the lake conflated with a soaring haze, and only the outlines of the nearby houses, like anchors of habitual human world, still held perception.
But they dissolved too …
There was only yourself next to the dying fire and … but is there something else … are there still you left?
After all, even the stars were faded away …“