ike a record dug up out of a lost collection, Kelly Saunders' debut self-titled album is a rich patchwork of otherworldly folk ditties, and soulful acapella vocal performances.

The songs for the record were composed in her Hong Kong apartment, which stands high in amidst a constellation of skyscrapers, in the middle of the heaving, bustling city. Meditating on the sea of of heads bobbing in and out of view from her high-rise window, Saunders' reflective compositions express the pangs of loneliness above an untouchable crowd and, more broadly, the occasional ennui and isolation of a life, lived abroad.