To Dad.
A year ago, Mum called. I felt weird before she spoke, then understood that you don’t always get to say goodbye. Sometimes the door just closes and you’re left holding the words you meant to say.
But somewhere along the way I stopped looking for that goodbye, because I realised you never actually left. You’re in every smile that catches me off guard. In every hard moment, I feel you clearing the way ahead. I’ll trust it, I promise.
This album is three years of the life of Berlin. Of peace and motion, late nights, and the kind of silence that only makes sense when you’ve stopped trying to make sense of things. It’s called Umarmung. It means to embrace. The word got stuck in my mind because of
@cioz_ , our first night out in the city, ending up at 90mil, dancing to records that weren’t ours, somewhere between dark and sunrise, and him explaining what it actually means to embrace something. Neither of us knew what it would become. Not closure. Not an answer. Just a gesture, for everything I still don’t know how to say out loud.
My brother
@rann__archive painted the cover. He saw what this was before I did. And
@cioz_ held the door open when I had almost nothing left to walk through.
To my family, my best friends, and everyone at
@hights.se who trusted a voice: thank you.
If your dad is still here, go hug him today. Not tomorrow. Today. And if you can’t, the way I can’t, this album is that hug. Take it.
Dad, this one is yours. Today I am 40 and understand what you tried to tell me years ago... I just wanted to have more time for you. I hope you’re somewhere out there between the stars, facing the sun of Riva Fiorita with the wind always at your back.
Umarmung, out at midnight đź«‚
