Los

It's as if a map of the world is spread out right on the kitchen table - only instead of routes, there are dreams and traces of mugs. The words sound like a quiet conspiracy for good luck: run, search, build your home where someone else's horizon ends.

There is no boring “stop” in this song; it's all about movement, about the sweet fatigue of the journey and the strange stubbornness to go where nothing awaits. The melody lulls you like a train at night, and the lyrics whisper: everything will be found - a home, yourself, and that very wind that will become your companion.