Wbrew sobie

It's as if someone accidentally turned on a voice recorder right in the middle of an internal monolog. The voice sounds calm, but beneath it, you can sense weariness from the constant "everything's fine," from nods that aren't out of conviction but necessity. The world around is beautiful, but it's plastic, like a shop window where emotions are sold on sale. The song smells like a nite city after rain, reflections of neon signs, and a sip of wine that wasn't enjoyed, but was taken "because you need to relax." It has a gentle, almost tender self-irony. Such an admission, made in a half-whisper: "Yes, it's done wrong again, but at least it's honest." And from this comes a strange relief, as if admitting weakness is also a form of strength.