WARCRY

There is no gloss to this sound - it is raw, like the night air on the outskirts. The words seem to fly out at high speed, mixed with fatigue and trembling adrenaline, where thoughts of the end coexist with a stubborn desire to live. The rhythm breaks and reassembles, like a heart after another fall, and the light of the headlights turns into rhythmic flashes of hope.

Here, it is not a pose that is felt, but a reflex - to survive, to break through, not to let the darkness win. Everything wheezes, rings, sways and yet holds on - like a city night, where danger and freedom are woven into one dense soundtrack.