Like a vegetation that’s grown for protection, LILLITH双生’s (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden is the collection of barbs that keeps intruders away. Or a sickness induced by common medication, (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden becomes the sweat lodge overload needed to holistically treat and furiously combat illness. Faith in the shape-shift rhythm, matriculation and penetration of post-soul, sounds crawling around ear canals, spelunking the depths of both imagination and fear. Horror in the fourth degree: a mental murder that makes homicide look like Candy Land to those “just passing through.” Patience precedes creativity, only to grow the world of (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden the same way sprinklers can overflow a side-bed of roses, flood into the basement, and eventually drown those living within. A duality so devastating it full-circles an individual’s core values.
LILLITH双生 reappropriates every single signifier “world music” has to offer — like “indigenous” and “ethnic” — in order to sow the seeds of (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden. However, LILLITH双生 creates a new world by smashing the offensive while salvaging identifying “defining factors” of “world music” through a unified mind. In terms of universal molding, (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden is the galaxy nobody has cared to witness, floating and coursing like any other set of gravitational rocks and matter, but black-holed into existence, helping those willing to take the plunge. Therefore, cycling ouroboros as rhythm, inverting melody with stability, and concreting atmospheric plunder only the daring can traverse. Adventure upon the stars at sea, floating like a man overboard, in a life-jacket, treading waterless terrain so seamlessly it’s as if paradise and devastation collided the beautiful factors of eternity. LILLITH双生: the unwillingly invisible deity of fate; (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden: an unforeseen afterlife.
There is no road map to (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden. LILLITH双生 characterizes direction as anti-compass, creating a trail by just pushing objects forth on their path, while a variety of mingling sounds interact and flutter and fade through surges of waves. A listener is treated as a spec of dust, and the impossible-to-determine direction — upon which there is no set course of navigation or destination — provides the GPS ozoned between dark matter and Earthly evolution. Set apart by burning, to atoms becoming this layer of gas and a scar tissue thickening a hide impenetrable to the sizzle.
Like that sneeze one keeps in eventually squeaking a fart out with it, but embarrassment is too much to bear right now, and sickness is just another licking of a subway station platform. Breathing with 20 Moby Dicks stacked on a slowly flattening set of lungs to absorb resistance, and only sucking in air through a coffee stirrer straw. Picture the word maybe when someone asks the question, “How are you doing?” Or if the world were filled with way more humidity than it already has, so everything now is mossy and algaed. Let’s pretend gills are just another way humans suck in air, set with a mouth and nose. Now buy some groceries in a filthy supermarket, so survival is more like lotion on the skin thrice a day. Window-washers live on the top floor of every building. Birds flying in the motion of breaststroke, sorta looking like frogs or lizards. And the Jurassic period is making some retrograde comeback by way of wet electronics bioengineered to house miniature dinosaur pets. But John Hammond never stepped foot in Crichton’s imagination, who happens to be the asshole/genius making all this new nonsense logical. Standing head of science “senate.” Located within the (SEASON_0) Hazard Garden, aloft an area nobody can locate, specifically; choose to have those natural born gills removed: breathing only with a mouth and set of nostrils, reborn now using the name, LILLITH双生.
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