"Therefore, the world symbolism of music cannot in any way be conveyed in words, for it is connected with primordial contradiction and primordial sorrow in the heart. The First One, and thereby symbolizes the sphere that stands above all phenomena and precedes every phenomenon."

F. Nietzsche

Like a philosophy, music, in its way, is consciousness out loud. Partial consciousness that has become directly tangible and has taken the form of a thing. The forces and their contradictions that create subjective experience are cast in the forms of music.
A piece of music allows time to become a sensory experience rather than just a stage on which the action of life is played out.

Musical perception is never reduced to a simple sound "now": it is a comet, the impenetrable and simple core of which is the current moment, and the rainbow tail is the past that has sounded away. The jubilant brass at the finale of Scriabin’s piano concerto or the lamentation of the viola in the famous aria from Bach’s St. Matthew Passion equally foreshadow pain. The wounded, wise heart will find consolation in the fact that music has a common destiny with us. Everything human is affected by the "sickness unto death," but this is not only the source of despondency, but also an invitation to play. There is a paradoxical hope in this game.

The Day After Tomorrow is an attempt to create a sounding piece that concentrates on the experience of hope. If hope cannot be found in oneself in the form of an intention, in the form of a state of mind, then, nevertheless, it is possible to create it in the form of a thing, a musical model of consciousness that would live this hope.

Created in moments of intense internal and external turbulence, these plays are an attempt to create a refuge for oneself, a sanctuary. Create something that could serve as a support from which you can push off to move on. If these musical notes help someone else take a breath and strengthen their hope, then I will consider my goal achieved.