Speak To Me

It's like talking to silence, which stubbornly remains silent, but you keep knocking on the closed door. At first softly, almost in a whisper - “talk to me.” Then louder, more insistently, almost desperately. And in response - only noise in your head and fatigue from your own thought machine.

The music here resembles an internal dialogue, where one half is tired of the chaos, and the other is desperately searching for any signal that will sound clearer than the background hum. And at some point, this bright hope appears: all this is temporary, everything will be renewed, everything will become clearer. But for now, I just want to hear a living word instead of emptiness.

It turns out to be a prayer, a confession, and a cry for help all at once. That rare mixture where asking for the simplest thing means demanding the impossible.