“I have lost the passion. There is no soul for it anymore. In nuances gone by you’d affiliate with a certain emotion—the soul is expressed merely in tone. I’d choose my words and they’d communicate a coherent vision; my world opened up for the listening ear, you knew more or less exactly where I was and what I saw. My voice has been shushed, the essence of my conversations have turned lifeless—and I strenuously attempt to describe it now, it’s as though I’m trying to read the staunchest of poker faces. Nobody will show their hand, they play their cards close to the chest. As there is no longer a reflection of my soul, I want to learn what characterises me, what separates me from others, the unique facets of my persona. I must learn again who I am. Since I stopped talking the world has fallen into disquiet.”
— the Beautiful Machines.