А я

Like a train caught off guard, which suddenly derailed from its usual tracks but continues to roll by inertia - slowly, creaking and echoing. Here, the air smells of train stations, rain, and fatigue from endless attempts to ‘fix’ what broke yesterday. Words are like suitcases without handles: difficult to carry, but a pity to throw away.

The music sounds like a long exhalation, when there is nothing left to argue about and nothing left to prove. In this trembling of notes, there is a weary acceptance that the sky is silent and permission to leave behind memories where other people's promises still hang. This is not about weakness, but about liberation - when stepping over the threshold can be the most honest thing to do.