APARTMENT

The room is filled with smoke, thick and sweet, like a memory that refuses to fade away. Everything happens slowly - glances, movements, breathing - as if someone pressed ‘repeat’ on an old film. A new face, the same intonations, the same habit of lying softly, as if out of concern. And this only makes my head spin more.

The past returns not with drama, but with a quiet echo - in smells, gestures, nuances. It's funny and painful to realise that history has rewritten itself, just with different names. And yet there are moments that are worth staying for, even if only for a couple of heartbeats, in this smoky apartment, where time flies again while someone lies on top of someone else and pretends it's the first time.