Matahari

Like a handwritten note in a diary between two dances: myths come to the party and stay until morning. Here, Malinche, Cleopatra, and Medusa roll call, like a round dance of legends that wink and challenge at the same time. The rhythm repeats the mantra “soy la que mata,” and each “mata” is not about violence, but about the ability to burn old roles and happily throw away the keys to other people's expectations. The voice turns into a drum: it whispers, shouts, pushes the dance, where you can be capricious, predatory, and completely calm in your audacity.

Warmth and light irony - like a note left on the kitchen table: “don't apologize for your warmth.” Here, ceilings and unnecessary rules are crossed out, skin changes outfits like a snake - and it's all the better for it. The song is not an instruction, but an invitation: to come, jump, feel the power, and laugh along with it; girlish power, told without pathos, with spark and without unnecessary seriousness.