GbClifford
Love, Diskito
There is an abruptness to waking up to the sight of the other person’s back, a quiet violence hidden in the impression of intimacy, that’s leaving an aftertaste of emptiness. The feeling of losing oneself completely in a love that is given but never returned. Or the slower, less immediate one - the gradual disintegration of a world into which so much was once invested. Love, Diskito is like a worn out overdubbed cassette found in a drawer, with its underlying tracks flickering between contrastin…