NOUVO GROOVE

Memories suddenly take me back to 2010: someone is dancing on the dance floor, someone else is offering “one at a time,” and the world around me resembles a collection of foreign TV series - bright, noisy, and smelling of grass. Words fly by like they're coming out of a car window at high speed: burned letters, broken promises, and people pretending that everything is still fine. It all sounds exactly like that - honestly tired and a little sarcastic at the same time.

There are no heroic confessions here, but there is a hoarse truth about how easy it is to get lost in other people's rhythms: friendships, dreams, and nights that tried to save themselves but asked for mercy. Inside, there is a mixture of road drive and melancholy: the engine is warming up, the stage is burning, and in your pocket are burnt letters and a neat decision not to drag extra baggage behind you.