Way down We Go

When the lights go out and only breathing remains in the room, the music seems to draw closer and whispers the truth that people usually shy away from. The voice is neither accusatory nor pleading, just a statement of fact: everything is falling apart. Not loudly, not tragically, predictably, like an autumn leaf that held onto a branch for too long. The sound is hollow, heavy, like footsteps on wet earth. It contains both fear and a strange submission, a mixture where you no longer resist, but you also don't completely give up. You just watch as the world, confident in its right, slowly pulls you down. And yet, there's a certain beauty in this fall. The one who makes darkness soft and defeat almost a cleansing. When falling turns out to be the only way to finally stop running.