Phillip Silver - Musique de chambre (2013)

Azure light mirrored in Madeleine’s pupils as they ramble daydreaming across the infinite expanse of calm sea; Mediterranean breaths behind swaying fabric at magic hour; a jingling key falling from a drowsily pursuing hand; a half-built Swedish wardrobe against the sun-warmed wall where the little dancing mobile sends its vespertine reflexions through the room, past the open bars of the
cage of the now-silent budgie who has, in spite of warnings, bluemoodily sought the waves; a wooing chant of a bursting guitar rising suddenly from the foot of the balcony, verses of victory and songs of shipwreck, a nasal clamour on creaky shoes, the burnt-up ashes of a thousand dream tones in the sunset sky; loosely trickling down on the vinyl carousel of a funk-drunk lizard whose disembodied gaze circles the counter of the half-empty bar on the landing; across the way the espresso-bearded gardener Eden, lost in thought, waters his thirsty plants in beds gradually sugared yellow-white by the moonlight – Banana Moon Serenade.