J'ai demandé à la lune

A quiet song about pride that still hurts and tenderness that pretends to have passed. The moon here is not romantic, but a polite companion, one who listens but does not save. The words are soft, almost childlike, but inside there is the weariness of an adult who is ashamed of still hoping.

It sounds like the night after a quarrel: when there is nothing left to prove, but thoughts still return to ‘what if’. Everything is simple and beautiful, like a shirt that still smells of the past. And let the moon laugh, because someone has to - if not cry, then at least laugh at love that never learns to disappear quietly.