Ash Speck in a Green Eye

The hot air seems to tremble above the asphalt, and even thoughts are too lazy to move faster than a snail. At moments like this, it's easier to surrender to the rhythm than to search for meaning. The repetitive ‘Heat’ becomes a mantra - as simple as breathing in the heat, yet hypnotic at the same time.

It seems as if the world is dissolving in pulsating fire, and the applause sounds like the reflections of a neon sign at midnight. It's either a party or a nightmare after a dinner that was too spicy. But in any case, the heat is felt every second, and there is no hiding from it, neither behind angelic words nor smiles.

The music here doesn't tell a story - it seems to become the temperature itself. When the sound fills the space, it feels like the walls are melting, and only one word remains inside, transformed into rhythm: ‘Heat.’