It was a rainy New England May when two old friends, an actor and a shut in, reconvened on a couple of songs recorded the year before as a distraction to a brutal icey Febuary. Together they shaped through sound the character of Pyotr, a comatose cosmonaut hovering through the ether. Embracing the kitsch and cliches the two spent a handful of weeks exploring the dark isolation of a sleeping mind. There in the twinkling nothing above the two sought to channel the sound of spaceships, dreams, fondness and loss.

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