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A string quartet on the last train to the orient colliding with a van of all the disenchanted youths last rock fantasies as the world dissipates into the nothingness of our own creation. ... Its been a couple of years now, and our happy little mandala family continues to flourish like the spring-time jasmine. We still refuse to write music - the fear of 6+ people on stage completely improvising their way through a gig has an exciting Survivor-like quality we are all increcibly addicted to. Sometimes we get very angry at the state of the world, and our music can be rather gruesome and scary and distorted. Sometimes we feel nothing but love for the things around us, and we choose to create pretty little things. Sometimes dancing is the best solution to everything.