Gone my dear
I can still remember the way
You called my name
Forest Circles‘ new single Sleep Castle arrives like a confession carried on wind, unhurried and inevitable. Piano notes fall with the steadiness of rain upon stone, each one measured, each one resonant with stillness. Over this foundation, Angel Ocana’s tender voice arcs, soft yet certain, a vessel for memory and a mirror for desire. It carries the ache of departure without collapsing beneath it, speaking to a love that has ended and yet somehow continues to breathe in the body of the listener.
There is no excess; just the simplicity of chords and the naked clarity of a voice. That sparseness creates a chamber where silence becomes as important as sound. In those pauses, longing gathers, delicate and heavy. What remains unsaid feels just as potent as what is offered, a reminder that absence can shape a room as much as presence.
The lyric moves between disbelief and devotion, between prayer and plain admission. “I can’t live without you,” the song seems to say, yet what rises through the delivery is less desperation than an elemental recognition: love, once touched, can never be untethered. Ocana leans into that paradox. His singing is unforced, imbued with a calm that turns grief into a form of grace.
The accompanying black-and-white video for Sleep Castle deepens the resonance. A lone dancer, illuminated only by the pale circumference of a full moon, turns the body into a kind of wordless prayer. The frame is stripped of distraction, leaving gestures that suggest both surrender and survival. It is an image of devotion offered to emptiness, where the smallest movement ripples against the cosmic expanse above.
Forest Circles understand that fragility need not be broken. Here, it is positively luminous, a condition that reveals rather than conceals. The song’s title points to cycles: endings that become beginnings, departures that remain as presences in another form. Listening, one feels both the ordinary ache of distance and the extraordinary relief of knowing that love itself is part of something wider, a current that flows through every voice, every silence. It holds sorrow without drowning, and hope without denial. It offers a balance: between the intimate loss of one voice and the vast consolation of a universe still listening. In that balance, the song finds its quiet, enduring truth.
Watch the video for “Sleep Castle” below:
Listen to Sleep Castle below and order the single here.
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