Paolo Scardina

A golden mist weaves through the towering emerald canopy as the child, now a grown adult, steps into the forest of his childhood dreams. The air hums with enchantment, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and pine. He looks down to see his hands—small again, like they were when he was a boy. In the distance, a babbling brook sings in harmony with the chirping of unseen birds. The full orchestra swells, strings trembling with bittersweet nostalgia while a lone flute dances above, light and playful, echoing the innocence he thought he had lost. As he walks deeper, the trees seem to whisper secrets of forgotten adventures, their branches arching protectively overhead.

Tears glisten in his eyes as he feels the absence of his beloved imaginary friend, yet in the melody of the oboe and the warmth of the horns, he senses their presence lingering, unseen but not gone. The forest breathes life into him once more, wrapping him in a tender embrace of memory and magic.

SCRIPT & VOCALS by Paolo