The desire for love, meant to fill the void within us, unfolds across countless parallel universes.
With subtle differences, this timeless dance of ecstasy, agony, and mistakes plays out simultaneously, driving us to wild, beautiful extremes in every reality.
It’s about the beauty and the sadness of a connection that exists in every version of reality.
One of the main challenges with the song was making it sound retro-ish without using the classic synths and drum machines that defined the ’80s and ’90s.
The sound came from layering – two or three instruments for each voice – a technique widely used in the ’80s, inspired by analog mixing rigs. Saturation was key to achieving that rich, vintage feel.
Using a real vocalist helped enormously. Catinca's voice was already perfect for the song, so my role was to enhance, not correct. Because the track feels like a reverie, I wanted it to move freely – like a chain of thoughts pulling you from one place to another, from one person to another. The song unfolds in almost seven distinct sections, each flowing into the next.
The original idea for the music video was to create an eclectic collection of 16mm, 8mm, and VHS footage – almost like discovering someone’s lost tapes. Candid moments of youth, mixed with epic inserts: cars running through the desert, yachts at sunset.
The intention was to create the feeling of memories from a life with multiple chapters, a love story happening across several parallel universes, each slightly different.
Without the budget to shoot all of this, I initially tried to rely on stock footage. I thought the cut-and-paste nature of the edit, combined with heavy grain and VHS deterioration, would make it work. Unfortunately, most of the available footage felt lifeless – the acting was dry, and the subjects lacked the charisma and presence I was looking for.
Then, right in the middle of this process - summer of 2025, Midjourney released its video capabilities – and it was good. Really good.
I had previously worked with Kling on The Red Dragon, but at that time I wasn’t considering AI for its “acting” abilities.
Midjourney delivered exactly what I needed: natural laughter, fleeting glances, mysterious smiles – moments that say more than words.
Once I started using it, I leaned into its strength for creating surreal scenes that reflect the inner world – emotions manifesting as dreams, nightmares, coincidences, or prophetic signs.
At the time, maintaining strict character consistency was difficult, but that limitation worked in my favor. In this story, memories overlap, identities blur, and the same love repeats itself across multiple parallel universes.
We’re living in a time where the present often feels unstable, fragmented, and overwhelming. Nostalgia offers a psychological refuge – a place that feels slower, warmer, and emotionally safer.
In marketing and cinema, nostalgia works because it bypasses explanation and goes straight to emotion. Films, brands, and music increasingly reference past decades not to recreate them accurately, but to evoke how they felt. That’s especially powerful for Gen X, who recognize fragments of their own past, and Gen Z, who experience anemoia – longing for eras they never lived but emotionally connect to through media.
Nostalgia doesn’t sell the past. It sells emotional certainty in an uncertain present.