I was very young, just after the mid-1980s.
Dressed in black, black lipstick, black eyeliner.

I sang and played synths in a darkwave band. I spent every night in clubs — Tenax, Queen, Manila —
and like many others, I lived inside that electric and shadowy aura that wrapped around Florence in those years.

Those were sharp, beautiful years.

All it took was a four-on-the-floor kick and a distorted bassline to rewrite the world beneath the strobe lights.

And when Love Like Blood by Killing Joke started playing, time would stop.

We moved with half-closed eyes, through smoke, alcohol, and dark dreams — as if every step was a ritual.

Those sounds felt immortal to us.

And maybe, in some way, they truly were.

Recreating that song today, so many years later, with the tools I have now — computers, virtual instruments, samplers, a synthetic voice that didn’t even exist back then —
felt strange.

At times, deeply moving.

As if the past had found a way to speak again. But with new words.

It wasn’t about nostalgia.

It was an encounter.

Between who I was…
and who I am now.