back in the lab again, he feels that something has changed. The field director is there. The scientists prepare new injections to stabilize the sessions. Now they want you to travel only through a particular fragment, to the origin of the fragment, and try to bring some object back to the present. But the emotions of his previous journeys have intertwined with the melody of his childhood creating new affinities for him, like luminescent roots underwater. When he is injected with the sonorous memory of the conductor, his mind rejects it. He feels his bones contract, but an earlier heartbeat opens a way out, he hears voices that seem to call to him from another time he remembers the strait, the storm of sand, of water, feels his body floating on the surface. The light warms his eyelids, he floats. He hears a sweet voice. A small moon-faced Sephardic woman is singing as she looks at him, her name is Flora Benamol. She is singing a wedding romance from the 14th century, its verses have been macerating in the memory and song of the Sephardic community of Morocco that later also passed to Gibraltar, since they were expelled from the peninsula in 1942. Flora's voice is now theirs too

by variations in her ear pressure, she feels that the scientists are after her new present. He is in Ronda, he has arrived by the smuggling routes from the rock of Gibraltar, like the serrana he begins to feel touching in his hands. His name is Silverio Franconetti, he was a tailor, his father was Roman and head of the Walloon guard, Flemish, in the Netherlands. He plays the guitar walking along the roads at dawn, his exodus companion, Mahmoud Guinia, brings sounding from Tetouan some qraqeb (in Arabic, قراقب), some crotales of his Gnawa brotherhood, he says they sound like the shackles worn by his ancestors, gnawi, a Berber term related to the dark color of the skin they hear a cry up on the hill, an Irrintzi in the voices of Basque shepherds. According to the chroniclers of the Middle Ages the prolonged cries of the mountaineers frightened the Muslims, but their sound is the same as that of the Berber women of the High Atlas when they prepare the wedding ritual. The stone of the Ronda mountains sounds like that of the Basque mountains (Euskal Mendiak) and that of the High Atlas, the same stone, the same night

they sit by the fire with other walkers, his guitar becomes a violin standing on his knees. He is known as Mohamed Tahar Fergani, from Constantina, not the one in the Sierra Norte de Sevilla, but the Algerian one, and his violin intones a Ma'luf (in Arabic مألوف), classical Algerian music of Andalusian origin. Transculturation on the back of exodus and diaspora _The voices and melodies no longer pierce him, he is able to experience them as a close and familiar other. Around the fire, Solekha, from Al Hoceima, sings in Tarifit, and Francisca Gaviño sings and distributes olives from Bormujos around the embers

_His violin begins to intone Arvanite music, the fire is stoked, his memory is that of Giorgos Papasideris (Γιώργος Παπασιδέρης) from the Island of Salamina. It sings remembering the settlers who moved to Greece from Arvana (Άρβανα) in Albania. They sing and the frequencies of the rondeña, of the fandango, vibrate in the sky like a celestial night round, marking their way

scientists have not been able to extract it from the sonorous flow, its body inhabits another present._ continue reading...

Here you can see in detail the collage and the songs used in the piece with their albums/files of provenance: