On Repeat

The record is stuck in my head, and the needle stubbornly refuses to skip to the next track. The same farewell, the same look - as if my memory has decided to play an endless loop, with no stop button.

The music here sounds like spinning around in a closed corridor: sometimes memories of silly words, sometimes pain in my temples, sometimes another attempt to escape from the labyrinth I built myself.

The result is a story about how the past becomes the DJ of the evening - playing only one song, while the heart, alas, continues to dance to it.