I like stories in songs. I respond to those that fundamentally touch me. The song Báj Maginhradu was composed without long speeches in my rehearsal room. I sent the home recording to three musicians - Peter Luha (guitar), Peter Korman (double bass) and Michal Fedor (drums) in December.

It's the beginning of April and the song is still not in the world. Recordings are waiting to be mixed. Everything stopped thanks to the corona. During the four months of isolation, I felt as if I had lost my way. Botto's poetry is like a maze of hidden meanings, vague forebodings. The pilgrimage to his work is ultimately a pilgrimage to the inside of my story. It was not about the affinity with his work, but about my personal search. His suggestively accumulated synonyms intensifying the darkness and around me people dying of covid only confirmed me in the belief that this world is slowly coming to an end and that only Indians from the Panamanian jungle are experiencing freedom. The chain of darkness interrupted the arrival of spring. I planted the seeds in the ground and the plants did not wait long. Every day I watched them pull for the light. I am adapted to wander and at the same time do not reject miracle and beauty. From my spiritual labyrinth, tomatoes sew me into the light, and when I think more deeply, so do the light optics seen in the myth of Maginhrad, where the vision comes at midnight and is accompanied by light. Long live the faith of miracles - I hope that the new song will see the light of day soon and that it will please you as the coming light of spring.