Baltimore (feat. Trettmann)

Nostalgia here smells like wet asphalt and cinnamon on a bun, bought by chance in December. It seems as if life has moved on down the road, to new cities and people, but every turn still brings you back to the old windows opposite. The second floor, the neighbouring block - like a scene from a film that will never fade from memory.

The song flashes with shadows of the past: evening kisses with a taste of salt, laughter until morning, the absurd confidence that everything will last forever. But there is also something wise in it - the recognition that old roads lead nowhere, but without them, the current ‘self’ would not exist. And from this, memories become softer, warmer, like a letter sent by the wind.