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The pure joy of standing beneath these ancient trees, feeling the sunlight warm my upturned flower-face. The ecstatic freedom of running across the open plains with my tribe, footpads pounding the grass, lungs heaving, tongue lolling. The soaring feeling of my soul rising to trace the edge of jagged peaks against the sky. Whenever the mother calls, I will go to her; to the land I pledge my love, my life, my sword. Dave Aftandilian
Interesting take on Bach and therefor alone worth it already. The execution is subliminal. The Dutch - Flemish Renaissance cover fits the atmosphere and when it does, you know you're onto something good. Marty