I came to spend a few days in Cascais, south of Lisbon in Portugal, and as usual, I brought my recording setup with me—my Tascam, my laptop, and a bag with only the essentials. Once here, I picked up a few small useful things locally. What’s interesting is that my approach feels completely different this time. Up until now, I’ve mostly been taking time to breathe, to slow down, and to release the pressure. The past weeks and months in Paris have been extremely exhausting, and it’s clear to me that I won’t be able to stay in that city long-term. I need to find a way out and take action without overthinking it, because physically and mentally, it would become very difficult otherwise.

That’s partly why I’ve been studying Shingon Buddhism lately. It led me to reflect on different levels of consciousness. I’m also working on a book about traveling alone—focusing on the positives rather than the anecdotal negatives, something structured and intentional. Through that process, I’ve realized that I tend to operate at a higher level of awareness than most people. When I was younger, I rarely allowed myself to slow down—to simply sit for two or three hours and recharge. Until around the age of 30, I neglected that, and it caused problems both for myself and in my relationships.

I’ve also encountered many people who didn’t match my energy or what I had to offer, and that’s been very difficult to deal with. On top of that, my family background has been complicated. It’s like a book where everything that’s written remains stored in memory. I’ve tested this by visualizing things and realizing that I can internalize them, whether they’re positive or negative—they come back clearly in my mind. It’s incredible how much the mind can retain. Through this, I believe we can learn almost anything. For example, right now I’m learning Portuguese, and day by day it’s becoming easier to form sentences and communicate. Things stay with me.

This trip is interesting because certain elements remind me of other places I’ve been, but there’s also a new kind of feeling I’ve never experienced before. I’m trying not to overanalyze it, but instead stay in action. I also notice that I now tolerate things I wouldn’t have been able to handle ten years ago. This place suits me well. I don’t think I could stay here for three weeks like I did in Vietnam, but four or five days feels perfect—especially when traveling alone.

People often say to me, “It’s easy for you—you have no responsibilities, you’re free.” But that’s not true. Choosing to be alone is something you have to fully own, and it can be very difficult at times. It requires organization, openness to the world, and the ability to appreciate things deeply. Sometimes isolation is necessary, both physiologically and psychologically, but it demands effort—especially when you re-enter social environments and start comparing yourself to others, which is the worst thing you can do.

From a musical perspective, I’m glad I released the single “Luminaire” because it allows me to move forward. That track will stay with me—it will be easy to replay, just like the first single of this new project, Zi Iacchos – “Dragonfly Sky.” I really like both tracks because they’re anchored in my mind. Once I set up my modular system, my guitar, and my voice, everything falls into place. I remember the structure—it’s neither too simple nor too complex—and that makes me very satisfied. I’m also glad to express this here, in a place that calms me.

I couldn’t have stayed in Lisbon for these few days—it’s too intense: too much noise, too much stimulation, too many visual distractions. I’ve noticed that people, like me, often wear lightly tinted glasses—it’s difficult to maintain visual comfort when surrounded by artificial lighting that doesn’t suit the eye. This feels like a transitional phase where preservation is important. But ultimately, what is the goal?

Deep down, I feel what I would call a “death instinct.” Not in a dark or destructive way, but in the sense that every morning I consider the possibility that I might die that day. Because of that, life feels incredibly beautiful. I haven’t built a family or a fixed social circle, so I remain socially fluid—open to the world, to the planet, and to the different dimensions of human experience. I feel like I can perceive things others might not, although I know there are others like me—perhaps hidden, or without the same opportunities to travel. Being an artist makes it complicated to balance work and this kind of life, but that’s another subject I care deeply about.

This idea of the “death instinct” is something I want to develop into a song. I think I’ll keep it simple—maybe release it as a single rather than building a full album. Focusing all the energy on one piece feels right, rather than spreading it across an EP.

In the end, everything stays in memory, which allows it to be recreated. I’m very happy with my modular system—it strengthens my connection to these two tracks and gives me even more motivation to continue.

Here in Cascais, I recorded sounds at a place called Boca do Inferno. I already had similar recordings of water and rocks, but what’s exciting about field recording is the possibility of unexpected results when editing and slicing the samples. I think I’ve already finished cutting the main parts, and I’ll soon export them into the Pico Drum module. When I was recording yesterday, I was surprised by the quality of the iPhone—it feels almost comparable to my Tascam recorder. Still, I brought the Tascam with me, so I’ll compare both recordings.

Zi