Plazma

Here, stardust and the smell of warm asphalt at dawn intertwine. Every ‘what if’ is not a regret, but a leap over the fence into a new universe. The scars on your palms become a road map, and a random ball hitting your forehead becomes a flash of insight that suddenly explains what love is. Words and gestures break free like plasma sparks and fly away, even if light years prevent you from reaching that very voice. Everything here is about how life suddenly becomes colourful when you stop holding your own hand.