This piece begins with a shuffle, or wave, from left to right, and rocks through out its duration. It moves around, back and forth, in an attempt to simulate what we each go through everyday. Daily urban sounds are used to strike the listener with the stress these sounds represent, from ringing bells, to approaching trains, to whispered voices, and mostly undecipherable speedy sound, travelling too fast, or at times too slow, to kick out subjectivity and understand. If we remember, that each day, we dance, slow motion towards our death, we'll know that to love, is all there is time for. The words are the piece and the piece is the words.
Love is the refuge of the rocking world.
Love, in a sense, is our mother rocking us, as well, as we learn to deal with mobile madness. And what the listener holds onto during this piece is the female voice - the mother, who is not rocking or distorted, but remains in the same place, central to the space provided, assuring us that love is all we have time for. We are born to die. We are born needing love. And as long as there is love, there is life.