Working with recorders, found sounds and a few instruments, Keeler conjures up scattered pages of an album full of sepia polaroids, a cross between several dimensions of underdeveloped tiny aural landscapes and a personal diary where reflection and irony about the surrounding happenings manifest in various surprising ways. You just have to add your own sensitivity to bring out the rough beauty of some of the tracks, lurking in the mass of audio remnants that could easily cover them if your ears are not careful enough.