Therapieplatz

A world where children's swings creak louder than adult diagnoses. Where instead of answers, another life is a big playground, and the sandpit has long since turned into a minefield. The voice seems to have grown up among the shards - slightly hoarse, slightly tired, but still reaching for the light, like grass through concrete. Between the lines - everything that is usually not said aloud: shame, anger, confusion, the desire to just be normal, even a little.

And yet - not without hope. Because somewhere between ‘why don't they love me’ and ‘okay, let's move on’ there appears something alive, something real. That very thin thread that holds you when nothing else does. The music here is not for dancing - it is for those who once also asked where their place was on this damn playground and finally understood: even if you don't know when you'll get to ride, the main thing is not to let go of the swing.