IL SE FAIT TARD

I like to be surprised by beauty. You move through space as a spring breeze while spreading an echo of possible promises. I remember the fine sand that lives around our feet. The intoxication of your presence and the rippling rosé on the surface. Il se fait tard, but we don’t care.

Dean Grant, a mélange of the 50’s and the breeze of the French Mediterranean while preserving today’s sound.

www.dean-grant.com