INZM

Lightning splits the moment in two – first shock, then flight. It's as if someone pressed pause on everyday life and released a short but vivid series of frames: an accelerated sprint, a crisp silence, then movement again. The whole song feels like a flash in a street camera - sharp, hot, slightly shameless. The indistinct sounds between the lines work like a wink: here you can push harder, here - set everything on fire for effect.

Three beats, three crows, fragments of the sky that easily break and come back together - the rhythm seems to be deliberately trained to pretend that everything is under control, even though control has long since gone on holiday. The irony slips in quietly, almost kindly: being super-fast doesn't mean you won't get burned. In the end, you're left with the feeling that someone nearby is laughing and putting their hand on the cold bars to feel that they're alive.