The Wings Of The Fly
Duo album, Ralph Heidel & Finn RonsdorfFebruary 2026
How I’d Love It So
Video: Lisa Harres2025
High above, over a valley, one stands in the morning light and gazes at the sky.
Before him the landscape stretches out and
allows a wide view.
He lets his gaze wander high above
until it comes to rest far below in the valley.
Down there, childhood, which shows less meaning in the distance,
Down there, on the farm, which now lies quiet and has, in the distance, become a miniature,
Down there, on the stable, where in this very moment an animal is born,
An animal of which the one knows nothing and will never know.
An animal that adds nothing to his story, but also takes nothing from it.
At the same time, many valleys away, another kneels in the forest.
Kneels on the ground, which is damp and heavy.
Kneels on the earth, which can rise and fall,
which makes space and takes it.
The other digs and digs and buries a wish, a letter, a sentence:
To become a singer.
Perhaps the earth will answer him later.
Perhaps it already does in that very moment.
he stands up
Does not turn around
Does not look back
Simply leaves the forest
And as he goes,
and goes,
and moves,
and does not look back,
only moves forward,
years pass,
slip away,
intertwine.
Time makes a decision.
Time says: Berlin.
Time says: two thousand and twenty-one.
No mountains. No forests.
Only concrete underfoot and a night sky that knows more neon light than stars.
The one and the other move in, arrive, unpack, become part of a great whole and feel alone.
They lose themselves and resurface, move toward one another and away from each other,
do not touch yet, not yet, even though their hands may already be close,
they take the same routes, walk the same streets,
meet people who could be points of connection, but are not yet.
At the edge of music they meet and hear one another before they see each other.
Again and again their paths now cross: one runs into the other's arms at night,
one stays temporarily with the other,
one exchanges words that will stay with the other.
At some point, a first performance - on saxophone and voice,
trusting in reduction.
It is 2021. It is a beginning.
Together they build an album that explores the past - The Wings Of The Fly. Mountains and forests become mythical places within it, half memory, half dream. Movements between musician fathers who roam through childhood like wolves, and friendships that bridge distances. Between a dying lamb, silent wingbeats, and a reverent plum. Between Allgäu and Black Forest, between mountain and valley, between the one and the other. Between all of this grows the realization that the flutter of a fly’s wings is enough to set an entire past in motion.
Text: Leah Luna Winzely