Прости за любовь

Sometimes love doesn't end - it just fizzles out, like a candle in a draught. It seems warm, but it no longer shines. Here, it's without hysterics, without drama, with a slight echo of fatigue in the voice. When everything has already been said, but for some reason you want to repeat: ‘Listen.’ Not because you're waiting for an answer, but because you need to put the final full stop, gently and with dignity.

The music flows like a late conversation in the kitchen - somewhere between ‘one more’ and ‘okay, time to sleep.’ The voice is like a whisper from the past, and the beat underneath reminds you that the heart, despite everything, continues to beat. Calmly. Without him.