Text by Christian Platz
Photos by Samuel Bramley

«And he entered into a ship, and passed over, and came into his own city».

 Matthew 9:1, King James Version

FLOSS on a great voyage. Only the mast light illuminates the dark, windless tropical night. No stars in the sky; the sea is black, smooth and still. At home, on the Rhine, it is winter now. Then, suddenly, a second light in the darkness: a match. The captain, leaning against the mast, lights his pipe. A brief but massive flapping of fins from the ocean intrudes upon the nocturnal calm.

«Probably another sea monster. You never know what awaits you in the deep beneath the surface. But one can get used to it», says the Id beneath the captain’s cap. A comforting thought for the old sea dog. He remembers the terrible battle with that Leviathan, which the FLOSS crew barely survived back then, when they set out to fetch a rare music from that lonely island marked on no sea chart, in order to bring it to the audience gathered in summer down by the Kleinbasel bank of the Rhine.

Ah, the long voyages. Ah, the wild adventures in search of the finest cargo of sound. And then the triumphant return to the home port: the freight is unloaded before the astonished landlubbers, for three weeks, piece by gleaming piece. «This is life …», the captain says softly into the night, «… this is love». The pipe had gone dead. The captain retires to his bunk, lies down, and dreams. Of beautiful Klabauter-women bending and swaying along the Rhine bank, in the wind of the music.