春愁

Like a page from a notebook, where all the contradictions are honestly and unevenly written down: hatred for people, irritation with friends - and at the same time a hidden tenderness towards them, so real that it hurts to admit. Repetitive days, sunlight that seems to promise nothing special, but still warms you up.

The song smells like spring before the cherry blossoms bloom: it's still cool, still empty, but you can already feel the movement, the hope, the “tomorrow.” In this simplicity, there is an almost stubborn acceptance: even if you don't like today, even if yesterday didn't bring you joy, as long as you're alive, that's what matters. And in this honest, slightly weary candor, a quiet strength is born that keeps us afloat better than any ideals.