Wildtrack is about two people.

It’s about friendship, and love, and illness.

It’s about the persistence of memory, about the ghosts we carry with us.

It’s about the simple joy of being with someone who understands the language you hear in your

head, the voice that makes you unique.

It’s about the secret of long-term relationships: Every single one is another country, another

language, understood only by the people who created it. It has to be secretive, because it’s so

precious.

It’s about how relationships are necessary, symbiotic, parasitic, cannibalistic.

It is, maybe, about growing up: finding an identity, finding a corner, finding the people who’d defend

that corner with you. And the laughs. The laughs that made the damned thing worthwhile.

Because, one day, one of these two people starts to forget. Language, memory, themselves.

What would that do to two people?

Wildtrack is also about these things.