Polaroid

Like the smell of old photo albums, where the pages are slightly yellowed and the corners of the pictures are held together by glue. Here, the music sounds like a stuck “sorry” that you can no longer catch up with - it has dissolved along with the smoke and the silence of the night. In each verse, only memories remain: a smudged Polaroid, fragments of words, and the habit of returning to them again and again, even when you know that there is only emptiness ahead.

The melody is viscous melancholy, but without hysteria. Rather, it is a quiet fatigue, when the past itself turns on repeat and plays the same frames over and over: laughter, touches, slightly absurd moments of happiness. All this turns into a “pire story” - the most banal and the most personal at the same time. The track sounds like an admission that sometimes a whole life can remain in a single photograph and a few sighs that no one will ever hear.