ma ma

“ma ma” splits “mama” into two calls — as if language is trying twice to reach someone who no longer answers.

The song follows a voice searching for a mother, for love, and for itself inside the words “mama” and “I.” Through repetition, sound becomes identity, intimacy becomes distance, and a name becomes a role. “Mama” can be spoken but cannot answer. “I” can be written but cannot contain the self.

Returning to “love me before sound,” the song asks for the impossible: to be loved before need had to become language. What remains is the word for closeness after closeness itself is gone.