If We Let Go

Sometimes it sounds like a sigh between dreams. The words are like a confession whispered through the evening mist, without expecting a response. Everything seems flooded - not with water, but with feelings: either longing, or relief, or a memory that refuses to fade away.

The music slowly builds, as if someone is letting go of something they have been holding onto for a long time - until their fingers tremble. There is no loud drama, only an internal earthquake, which is expressed on the surface with one word: ‘warmth.’ But not a cosy warmth, rather one that makes your heart ache - like the heat in your chest before you start crying.

And while ‘Heat. Heat. Heat.’ plays, it seems that it is not a sound, but a pulse that is trying to say more than words can express.