Vibrant chit chat like memories quench the still summer nights of the dilettante fishermen and their court. Fane is the very soul of this odd camp, routinely cobbled up on the Timiş River bank, in the outskirts of Timişoara, Western Romania. Guitar and lyrics, deep monologue and steep dialogue… all crop into clean contemplation of supreme Father Time pushing human lives to their appointed tryst. Time as likely as not crystallizes in the air teeming with the myriad mayflies flooding the anglers’ camp hot nights – so biological life, of men and ephemeridae alike, inescapably meet in thespian innuendo which, by yesteryear small tokens fathoming and bespeak of an east side generation, pushes the limits of the living second to the far ends of eternity.