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The music doesn't describe the world so much as it sits inside Anna's head: the loss she's carrying, the isolation, the slow pull of a forest that turns out to be far more awake than she expected. Carmosino worked from a small set of sources: piano, cello, strings, an analog synth, and the voice. All of it starts acoustic and real, then gets pitched, layered and distorted until you can't quite tell what you're hearing anymore. That's deliberate – it's the same ground shifting under Anna as she comes back to a place she knows and finds it wrong.

There's no kantele here, no folk imagery, as Carmosino went the other way: a modern, cinematic palette that carries the weight of the old myths without ever quoting them. The voice running through three of the tracks belongs to Maria Chiara Argirò – most strikingly on "Endless Exile," a slow, smoky piece that channels the spirit of Bristol's finest trip-hop.

Exploration, tension, the moments where something finally gives – it's all in here.