NINAO

It seems like everything has already passed - the night, the noise, and that strange tremor in my fingers, like strings under my skin. But inside, everything still vibrates: quietly, muffled, almost tenderly. French words, Korean sounds - as if two worlds accidentally met in one heart and decided not to explain themselves.

Slightly smoky, slightly vintage, a little hopelessly beautiful. Somewhere between regret and the last sip of wine after a party, when it no longer matters who was right. Only the music breathes - as if remembering what can no longer be said.