Alice is a self critical epic. As somber as the fog, intoxicating as jasmine. A near fable of fear, sexuality, war, religion, technology, peace, philosophy, hedonism, sociology, evolution, and ecclesiasticism. Like a whisper on a vinyl record from1952. Alice is open with dilated pupils. Flushed with passion, under soft lit words. A dance hall in the jungle, interrupted by the thunderous disease of the contemporary man. Alice is no religion, but may be seen as one. Alice is no person, no god. Alice is an idea, a feeling, covered in pink lace.