Cycles is a long-term music project built around change, memory, and time. Each piece is released at the beginning of a new season and captures a specific mindset, atmosphere, or personal moment tied to that period. It’s like a musical journal, not just reflecting where I am, but offering something fixed in time. Each piece in Cycles is meant to act as a marker, something to return to. A way to hold onto whatever you were living when you first heard it. The tracks aren’t just mine; they’re made to hold space for your own memories too. They exist so you can come back and say: this is where I was. The project doesn’t follow trends or tell one single story.It documents fragments, what fades, what stays, and everything in between.
Winter is the final piece of Cycles 2025. It moves at its own pace, slower, almost suspended, like time stretching in the quiet. Sounds feel distant, softened, wrapped in layers of silence and air. It’s not about intensity, but about what remains when everything calms down, the cold stillness, the space between moments, the feeling of being alone without being lost.
Autumn 2025 is the third piece of Cycles 2025. It drifts between warmth and fading light, comfort and quiet unease. A season of slowing down, where things settle but don’t quite rest. The air grows heavier, colors soften, and time seems to stretch. It’s reflective, gentle, a little melancholic. A moment of transition, when everything lets go without fully ending.
Summer is the second piece of Cycles 2025. It carries the heat of long days and nights that felt endless, the sound of crowded streets and voices drifting in the air. It’s not about capturing the perfect moment, but about remembering what slowly fades, the warmth on your skin, the echo of laughter, the stillness after it’s gone.
Spring is the first piece of Cycles 2025. It moves between sunlight and storm, warmth and tension. A moment suspended, where everything blooms and breaks at once. It’s that strange in-between, when the air smells like change, but nothing’s clear yet. When the light returns but casts longer shadows. It’s restless, soft, uncertain. Full of movement, but never quite arrival.