I just returned from a week in Slovenia, in the capital city Ljubljana. One of my goals was to lay the groundwork for the first track of my new project, Zi Iacchos. That was accomplished, and a key part of it was recreating, through a synthesizer I often use, a sound reminiscent of the Solina string ensemble, but with a 2025 and contemporary perspective. This links directly to the emotional tone of the songs to come in this project, which aims to adapt various teachings—especially Buddhist ones—to our current time.

The region is often described as green and peaceful, and that’s certainly true. Being there in March allowed me to explore quite a bit, walking extensively, as I often do, and visiting places without expectations or judgment. One highlight was a surreal museum in the town of Škofja Loka, which blends ethnology, contemporary art, village history, and accounts of local disasters.

I stayed in the center of Ljubljana, regularly walking at night along the canal and river. I met kind people—from the moment I arrived at the station—and was able to exchange ideas with them in a grounded, open way. My hotel was small but just right, around 15 square meters, with a window overlooking a slightly uphill street in a calm neighborhood not far from the castle. I often returned to the central train and bus station to explore nearby locations, including a trip to Lake Bled, where I recorded environmental sounds.

The exercise was also about filtering through the countless writings I’ve collected over the past six months and testing melodic lines on the synth—a way to align this sound work with personal and spiritual reflections.

Of course, there were moments of solitude and pain, but the core practice was to rise above those moments and return to a centered mental space. I now believe that exaggerated joy is often an illusion, followed by a drop, so I try to experience things in a more grounded emotional state—something I may be able to describe more clearly after finishing Thomas Cleary’s translation of the Flower Ornament Sutra, or other sūtras I had with me digitally on my phone, which was very practical.

As for daily life, I often just had a simple sandwich during long walks, especially when I was hitting my 10-kilometer mark. Despite a mix of wind, rain, and sun, there was something magical about those panoramic views of the snowy mountains in the distance. I only went to a restaurant once, on a rainy night, to try mushroom soup served in a bread bowl and sauerkraut with sausage, paired with a glass of orange wine. I was careful with alcohol, since even a small amount seems to go to your head quickly there. The goal wasn’t to get drunk—it was to enjoy.

Each day had a purpose, and there were unexpected moments, not planned but full of life. They allowed me to reconnect with spontaneity—which is essential for this new project and its identity, which now reflects who I really am. If what I share can resonate with someone going through something similar, it feels right to give something back when you’re able.

Surprisingly, I still had my notebook with me, and tonight—as I returned to Paris—I reached the final page. That feels like a sign: a page turning. I’m truly grateful I went. Slovenia and its atmosphere are unlike anywhere else. I’ve been to Croatia, Scandinavia, and Italy near Trieste, but this region is unique. It was the right choice at the right time, after a particularly challenging period that demanded energy without letting me collapse. I’ll spare the unnecessary details here.

Recording melodic lines with the keyboard and later rearranging everything without keeping the keyboard track helped me approach voice and structure more fluidly, especially when working on something new with a clear intent.

As I got back to Paris, I ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen in 15 years—someone older who remembers my peak period in the alternative music scene. He told me I looked healthier than back then, and it reminded me that I’m still here, still standing. Many people who knew me in that era call me a survivor, and it’s true. Between what I lived through and the collapse that followed during the pandemic, a lot could have broken me. But this project is steeped in all of that—not directly, but deeply present.

Seeing that friend helped me realize I’m still moving forward, still seeking light. Everything is built one step at a time, following a path that’s still difficult to describe—but one that feels real.

Zi