If one could liquidify a handful of Pre-Columbian emeralds of crystal-clear luster into a brewing potion of intense aloofness and exceptional grace, Silences by Jacomo would undoubtedly result. Or imagine catching the cool, bracing moments of air just after a torrent thunderstorm in a tangled green garden when the earth is still humid and electrified. In music scores those "rests" denoting
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