Les passantes

The words flow as if someone is leafing through an old notebook, where dried flowers remain between the pages - chance encounters, moments by the window, shadows of fellow travelers whose eyes are remembered more vividly than entire years. All of these are beautiful ghosts who once smiled and disappeared, leaving behind a slight melancholy and a strange gratitude for the fact that they existed.

The music walks the fine line between memory and regret: slightly bitter, but at the same time enveloping you in warmth, like wine in the evening. Listening to it is like watching passers-by and thinking that each of them has a story hidden in their eyes that could have been yours, but remained fleeting.