Recordé

Sometimes the past doesn't return with a knock on the door, but with a melody gently emerging from the depths of memory. At first, it seems like it's just a sound - and then it hits you: smells, faces, words that have long been erased. And suddenly, something deep inside resonates, something that had been buried under layers of tasks, years, and excuses.

There's no pathos here - just a weary acceptance that everything flows and disappears, like a mark in the sand. The fear of darkness isn't about shadows, but about the possibility that one day there might not be any light left inside either. But between pain and forgiveness, that same melody still plays, where the last speck of peace resides.