When in September we will drive away from each other, we will hide our French kiss in a capsule of time. We will enclose in a casket the fermentation of our bodies – the childish and sweet courtship, the walks hand in hand, the nights where we hid between the tanning beds of a beach resort and all the places we have shared.

In the time capsule, we trapped the debut album of French Kiwi Juice as the needle hit the vinyl and the air got the colour of the new-soul We Ain’t Feeling Time, I still will be holding you, whispering in your ear the strength of the last hours together.

From our first light crop, sixty months have passed – this is the time we promised to give us.

will always cling on our first summer, the sun which coloured our faces – time always gives things back. This is the first rule of who long to shine.

I never be losin’, I’ve won every time, I repeat myself, as French Kiwi Juice’s music goes on – this is the summer. It is the time enclosed in the capsule.

A time that has decanted and become memory.

Time has really moved on – the capsule has opened and disclosed all the juice of the light of that French kiss – it has come back and it tastes of the delicate perlage of Marco Carpineti’s brut Pas Dosé KIUS. A glass of it, the music and her presence can swipe the melancholia of the past away and withhold the winter – that is where the loneliness is.

In summer we will be loving again because any moment is a great performance, between modernity and tradition, soul and house music as love is not a loop, it is not a needle moving around and around.

We can finally promise new things, new debuts and finally die with a smile, die with a smile, die with a smile.