In the beginning we were three, lost in the mists of "Wuthering Heights", her hands clinging to each other, barely lit to sing, write and compose in the shade-and stubbornly follow the path of this album.
Our meeting this almost miraculous clearing where the others were later made ​​an appointment to the sound of bells, guitars, pianos, flutes, percussion and strings of all kinds, we now measure the path come and contemplate a bit smug object of the offense as a physical response to our obstinacy, stubborn and intractable this faith we had in this project.

Read more about La Fille D'octobre on Last.fm.