CANIJO

A broken heart here sounds not like a tragedy, but like a melodrama played out in the square, where every neighbour eavesdrops and passes on the gossip. Betrayal hides in banknotes, rumours spread faster than the wind, and the hurt itself is like a dance - sometimes bitter, sometimes deliberately theatrical.

The music keeps this conflict in the rhythm of a holiday: eyes shine not only from tears, but also from the light of garlands lit in the midst of drama. The irony is that personal history has long become the property of the neighbourhood, and pain sounds like a song that makes you cry and dance with equal ease.