Riding through the desert of southern Italy on a Peugeot gasoline steed. In the background of the picture, the car grill glows greasily. A strange spaghetti western unfolds as a melancholy fantasy. A kind of coming-of-age spaghetti movie, because your lips are made up with pellati blood. You're in between times. The old hero is dead, but we stole his guitar and seven shots. Premise: Decadence horny, defeatism only the old - when you say eclecticism, you cough up the letters and I always say: huh? Nobody lies at the swimming pool, but the wind. And Lana Del Rey gets Hollywood chewing gum at the 24-hour store on Langstrasse. It's all true because it's immortalized on mini-DV, we'd just have to edit it.
Hora Lunga had time. Had said goodbye first, to be able to start again with this and that, catching single images, hanging single tones in melodies on the blue synthesizer apparatus. And he almost got away with it alone.