■ Sounds
A single line break, and a sentence that remains unfinished.
The string “— 0x0D+” attached to the album’s subtitle is not just ornamentation.
It’s a subtle, handwritten signal—a blank space that emerged within a record.
0x0D is the hexadecimal representation of a “carriage return,” a control code that marks the end of a line.
Just like the clack of a typewriter returning to the beginning of a page, memory and language suddenly fold at that point and move toward the next line.
So then, what does the appended “+” signify?
It is the mark of feelings that can’t be concluded, a margin that keeps extending, and a “continuation” left in someone’s memory.
Chapii once said:
“My songs weren’t meant to be heard.
I just wanted to leave behind proof that maybe I existed.”
—If you’re reading this, it’s probably because you sense that something still exists beyond the break marked by “0x0D.”
Sound, by its nature, takes the shape of a wave—something that continues even after it ends.
As long as something stirs deep within the recording, unpredictable resonances arise, and the reverberation never stops.
This is a fragment, a reply, a replay—and, in a way, an “unsent message.”
“I, Chapii.”
The “— 0x0D+” that follows may not be the end of the record, but the beginning of another line of space—one that starts inside you.
RAW-IT works