La misère est si belle

Heavy air, saturated with smoke, salt, and a stubborn desire to persevere. Here, pain is not embellished or edited - it lives directly in the voice, in the pauses between words, in the cracks of breath. The world is grey, but not dead: it still glows with a strange love of life, as stubborn as the longing itself. Sadness becomes a habit, almost familiar, like an old jacket smelling of wind and cigarettes. And in this sincere, unadorned misery, a light suddenly slips through - as if someone quietly said, ‘Yes, everything is bad, but it's still beautiful.’