More songs by Dzharakhov
Description
Summer can be deceiving: the forecast predicts heat, but there's a chill in the air. The sun seems to be shining, but your hands still reach for the bottle to warm up with something. The city is noisy, friends are nearby, music is blaring, but inside, there's a quiet waltz spinning on its own.
The phone stubbornly remains silent, and each unanswered ring sounds louder than any conversation. It's supposed to be July, but it feels like the coldest month. Perhaps this is what freedom looks like - a little drunk, a little sad, but still dancing on the rooftops with the last days of summer.