MUD. I wanted to make a record that has the same preservatives as a tomato from my father's garden, that is imperfect, that smells of wood, that tastes like the fermented fruit of the place where I come from and the macerated meat of that place where I was. Organic but with no expiration date. Let it be a song to those who left and a toast for those who will come. That it lasted the same as a pipe loaded to the top of tobacco. I hope the stew comes out delicious and both the muse and you like it. With all of you, "FANGO".