A contraluz

The photograph in my wallet has faded, but it stubbornly persists - like a memory that doesn't want to let go. Everything about her is about that moment when it seemed the light was only falling on the two of them, and even a mistake looked like a gift. It's sad, but with a slight smile – because something did turn out right: experience, the silence after the storm, and the ability to put commas between "it hurt" and "but not in vain." In every chord, there's a reflection of the past that first breaks you down and then teaches you to stand tall. And though it was a small personal apocalypse, it sounds almost gentle now – like an admission that even from ruins, a song can be made.