This visual came from a desire to return to the source.
After spending so long inside the finished versions of the songs — vocals, lyrics, production, meaning layered on meaning — I found myself drawn back to what existed underneath it all. The piano. The space. The feeling before language arrives. Stripping the music back to its instrumentals wasn’t about removing something. It was about listening differently. About hearing the emotional architecture without the narrative guiding you.
At this point in my life, I was thinking a lot about foundations — what grounds me creatively, what’s always been there, long before releases, identities, or expectations. The piano has always been that place. Not the most visible part of my work, but the truest. The instrument I return to when I want to remember why I make music in the first place.
Looking back, this piece feels like a quiet acknowledgment of that origin. The same sky as Wonderland, the same world — but with the focus shifted to what holds everything up. A reminder that behind every finished song, every version of me the audience sees, there is still a simple starting point... hands on keys, sound in the air, and the dream before it becomes a story.