Once upon a time there was a day without dawn.
A caravan made of gold and shadow through the red forests of autumn.
Cleo and her wild compagny criss-cross the southern seas and the western lands, somewhere between Paris and San Francisco, somewhere in the middle of italian countryside…
They settle in Bristol to record their first album with John Parish, and to whisper some secret tales to the mournful night.
Cleo T. stumbles through the black and white forests and sings the forgotten songs of the morning birds.
And here we are.
In this tiny little cabaret, through the haze, in the dark, we keep down our voices.
Waiting for things to move, slowly, through the looking glass…
Lady Cleo and her sandmen with silver hands open their secret box.
From broken waltzes to gloomy melodies, they steal the key of dreams.