AH BON

Nostalgia with scratches on vinyl: the words are like old photographs, either brighter in memory or simply more contrasting, and between the frames lie the traces of distrust and familiar arguments. Attempts to reconcile turn into a play of unspoken words, where the loudest sound is the irritated certainty that great plans are collapsing due to the very beliefs that once seemed a saving support. The chorus repeats "bon, bon" like a manifesto of an ordinary day – not hate, not apocalypse, but a weary willingness to put up with things and laugh through gritted teeth. Every coming-of-age story here is read without pathos: traumas return on schedule, empires crumble into history books, and all that's left is to maintain a balance between sarcasm and kindness, as if it's the only honest way to look at the world.