Luna llena

The night seems to hang slightly between pools of light and neon shadows. Somewhere out there - she is, without stories, without likes, without traces on the internet. She is not one of those who live by algorithms, and perhaps that is what drives people crazy. It seems she has nothing ostentatious - no filters, no stories, just a gaze you want to get lost in.

He is all in the noise of the streets, in the rhythm of the engine, and in his own scars, which he has long learned to ignore. A bandit, but with a soul that for some reason is still looking for the moon. The one that sees everyone but tells no one anything. And while the world scrolls by like stories, he talks to her - not to the girl, but to the moon, as the last witness to what was real.

The song is like a long, sleepless night, where instead of confessions, the question echoes: why is everything always untimely? A little sadness, a little rhythm, and a lot of air between the words. It seems that if you listen to the end, you can almost believe that the answer will come after all - somewhere between the beats and the breath of the city.