... and I was in another palm grove on another palm grove. It was the surface of some planet, an orb among the stars, shrouded in the haze of some dream I can't remember but still can't quite forget. From ancient dreams to ancient dreams, nothing is ever as it seems. Palm Grove were there, within their state, drifting, rocking in the indoor breeze. Dance of shadow, dance of light, reel to reel tapes spool out into the night.
Dark moon rising, crescent stark on the horizon, plains bathed below in a golden hue. A group of brothers climb the stones, strings swell somewhere off in the distance. It seems a planet just like ours, but not ours. Vast structures in the distance, expansions, domed buildings gleam in the half-moonlight. Day and not day, night but not night.
Drifting deep in the Gemini Aquarium, that pool of pools, endless hues of tangerine and evergreen churn deep within its space. The gears of twilight shift beneath it all, wheels turning in a liquid calm. Dark moon rising, crater in the calm jet black of that crescent dream, looming still in low orbit, a panopticon jewel hanging silent in the sky.
Palm Grove still drift, working their machines in the half-moonlight, 808s race across vector landscapes, rivers of bass turning with the tides. Trip across the oceanscape, gliding over the silver sheen, running out of space but never too slow, never to stop. Black and gold in the sun, Shadez Of Colour run and run — run together, run apart — then back to where they started at. From liquid dreams to liquid dreams, nothing is ever as it seems. Slowly descend into the deep, beneath that surface smooth as glass. Shatter into that cityscape where pathways sprawl into an unknown future, back into an unknown past.