Jakbym Miał W Ręku Klamkę

Stress here is not an enemy, but a strange neighbour with whom you can sometimes even drink a coconut-flavoured energy drink. Yesterday was rock bottom, today seems like a resurgence. The wounds are covered with plasters, inside there are breakdowns on the level of ‘metalcore in the middle of a track’, but on top of all this lies a funny joy: everyone around nods as if they agree. A little theatre, a little self-irony - and it becomes almost cosy to live among ‘nice’ deceptions, where the truth doesn't seem so important if the music and company keep you afloat.