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As they ascend, the path disappears beneath windblown snow. They’re freezing and exhausted. The dog and pack animals are unaffected by the cold, but growing weary, jumping and stomping through piles of snow. The will of the empire, alone, pulls them further ahead. It is at this uncertain time, when Dan, at the head of their perilous caravan notices an odd crack in the rock formation beside them. “Let’s rest here until the weather changes.” They wander past the hidden entrance and into some kind of tunnel.

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Chris Carlier regina, Saskatchewan

I make short songs for doing dishes or walking the dog or riding the bus. Sometimes it sounds like the smell of the ground after it rains in autumn. Sometimes it sounds like a long summer drive with the windows down.

Sometimes I make music for film/TV/games/radio. Sometimes I make music for patrons.

Most of the time I'm drinking coffee.
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