There’s not a moment that I recall, in this lifetime, where my words ran out before the ink or lead.
The words were always more important than the music for me.
I cannot recall that last time I said “goodbye” to anyone until now. This “goodbye” is a first and a last.
So much happens after “hello,” yet everything stops after “goodbye.”
Memories are made after “hello” and memories are recalled after “goodbye.”
Each morning, I would wake to the understanding that every sunrise and sunset were the bookends of a chapter yet to be written.
Each day is a new page and you are the author. I looked forward to tomorrow on tough days because it would allow me to “try mo harder.” I learned, all too often, that every sunset does not beget a sunrise.
I will share everything I have composed, finished or in fragments, and then there will be no more Christiano Can.
This has always been more than music. I have screamed in my writings for so long and I have grown weary. My silence will be deafening.
When all the compositions are put together it will be eerily evident that I had no secrets.
I have reached a point in my artistic path where the words have stopped; the music is muted. It’s time to transcend.
My next action will be greatly misunderstood in the short-term. Complacency is not a reality I will live in.