Grandmother

When familiar things start to disappear - the bar, the car, even the stadium - all that remains is music. The kind that survives apocalypses and Mondays. It can drown out all regrets, turn pain into a major key, and transform fatigue into a guitar riff. It includes conversations with your grandmother over time, apologies spoken in the rain, and a strange relief that everything has already happened - and nothing needs to be fixed. You just take what hurts and turn it into rock “n” roll. Because sometimes there's no other way to survive.