AMIMA

A loud life on your own terms: a little tobacco, a pinch of bolero, and the road that calls you in the morning. There is no place here for other people's morals and rules - only the scent of perfume, dust from the road, and songs that heal your own wounds.

Words roll like stones from a mountain, a little boldly, a little hoarsely, but with the warmth that remains in people who are used to laughing even when times are tough. Between the rhythm and the rhyme is a feeling of freedom, when you don't promise to be someone else and don't ask for forgiveness for it.