I dreamt the pioneers of soda wept next to me as focus-group tested bland commodities dominated their art, now stripped of all tradition, and dearth what was a craft. Who helplessly cried out into the void watching over one hundred years, reduced and cheapened and made convenient and bland. Where once through skill and carefully selected ingredients, enjoyed in moderation the only exhaustive was the range of choice. They dismayed at gigantic servings, helpless while pimps pushed it, an alternative to our morning coffee, this once delicious treat they made by hand. They howled at the moon, shuddering at the difference between their crafted, artistic, big flavoured real soda, now watered down for mass consumption. They gathered up together to organise, and scream and kick and lashing out, would fight back under modern city lights. It’s time to get back to soda’s roots.



La moitié de ce que je dis n'a pas de sens, mais je dis juste pour vous joindre. Die Hälfte von dem, was ich sage, ist sinnlos, aber ich sage es nur, um Sie zu erreichen. Half of what I say is meaningless, but I say it just to reach you. 私の言うことの半分は無意味ですが、私はそれだけであなたに到達すると言う。 Mwatye nan sa mwen di se san sans, men mwen di li jis yo rive jwenn ou. La mitad de lo que yo digo no tiene sentido, pero lo digo sólo para llegar a usted.