Deardrums on a brilliant work of percussive wonders.
Marco Polo stands before the Khan to speak of his travels. Dazzled, he tells of a drumming place, a paradise hidden (some say a prison), of sounds, beats, rhythms reverberating and echoing in every wall, counterpointed synchronism and winds of sustained frequencies. An urge or feeling of belonging, the desire to remain, almost as if trapped. When finished, Polo raised his head to look at the Khan, but then he saw what he already feared. There was no Khan and he never left the Mayan city.