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In Berlin's
heart, where history thrives,
Amidst the
streets where grandeur connives,
I met
Moritz, a genius of sound,
His music,
a realm where depths are profound.
His opus,
Silencio, a sonic embrace,
Where
repetition and reduction find their place,
A tapestry
of techno and minimalism's art,
With the
human voice playing a vital part.
In the
depths of electronics, a pulse takes hold,
A vast
dynamism, a story yet untold,
Silencio, a
murk both dank and deep,
Where
clouds gather, secrets they keep.
On Potsdamer Platz, our paths did entwine,
The night
was young, the air filled with wine,
We sought
refuge in Kebinsky's embrace,
In Lorenz
Adlon Esszimmer's grand space.
In old
leather armchairs, we sank with delight,
Domaine de
la Romanée-Conti, a wine of pure light,
Silencio's
strains, they filled the air,
As we
closed our eyes, entranced by the flair.
Again and
again, the music unfurled,
A symphony
of emotions, a story to be hurled,
Hours
slipped by, yet we lingered still,
In
Silencio's depths, our hearts did fulfill.
Emerging
from the night's embrace,
We found
our destination, our rightful place,
Tresor
Club, a haven of sound,
Where music
and magic forever abound.
Στο 17 ο Moritz von Oswald και το Silencio
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