Washington

Two songs for each.

Eight legs like a spider.
Sometimes we crash. It's human. They say it is how we learn, how we evolved. We can see Washington as she walks away from the still smoking wreckage and heals herself through, once again, her brilliant endeavour. Insomnia.

Translator, stenographer, self-portrait with music and lyrics. At some point in the past perhaps a feeling of tipping over into madness. But what is that anyway? Somewhere she was prepared to go? A consequence? So she takes a mental polaroid of herself to remind her of this time and place. Then she goes one better and embarks on the journey to create a beautiful new work. Insomnia.

A piece of...

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