my mind is a mountain

Ice in my veins, a storm outside and inside at the same time. Everything seems to hang in ‘negative space’ - pauses, cycles, waiting for something that is about to break through. The heart is wet with fate, which falls from above like pouring rain, and all that remains is to patiently measure time and stay the course.

The music seems to be stuck between thunderclaps: first a quiet rumble, then a sudden explosion, and then again a hum and emptiness. There is a strange calmness in it - the kind that comes not from silence, but from exhaustion at the very epicentre of the storm.