People sometimes ask why Evanescent Horizons consists of eleven tracks. The answer has very little to do with numbers. It has everything to do with shape.
The album was never conceived as a collection of songs. From the beginning, it existed in my mind as a single emotional arc.
The first five tracks descend steadily into loss, disillusionment and collapse. Each one strips away another certainty until nothing remains. The sixth track stands exactly at the centre. It contains no lyrics because, at that point, language itself has failed. Until then, the protagonist searches through words: pleading, questioning, accusing, mourning. But there comes a moment when suffering exceeds explanation. Nothing meaningful can still be said. Only music remains. From there, the second half begins—not as a return to happiness, but as a slow and uncertain movement toward acceptance. The final track ends with death, yet also with the realization that love itself was never meaningless.
That is why there are eleven tracks.
The shape came first.
The number simply followed.