Llorarás

Like salsa with a hint of revenge: the rhythm kicks the debts of the past, and the words come in perfectly in time - “you pay for suffering.” Here, jealousy turns into a choral prophecy, where every “you will cry” sounds like a candy with a crunchy filling - first painful, then sweet and uncomfortably pleasant. The whole story is not so much a cry as a neatly laid out warning: don't hurt others, or the echo of your own gestures will come back to you.

The finale is surprisingly light: liberation is packaged in a sarcastic festive gesture, as if it has been decided to remove the shackles and drag the past away on a Christmas wheelbarrow. A mixture of self-respect and slight sarcasm turns suffering into a lesson and a dance - here, they no longer seek excuses, but arrange a small parade of new life.