懐メロを抱えて

There is something in this sound that reminds me of old cassette tapes - the ones you rewound with a handle until the tape almost broke from impatience. Nostalgia here is not like weary sadness, but like summer, with its smell of asphalt and lemonade, where you feel both ashamed and sweet at the same time. A girl with a dream runs forward, clutching her “old songs” to her chest, as if they could protect her from everything that is falling apart around her.

And even if there are no answers, even if every day is like the same morning after a sleepless night, the running continues anyway. In these rhythms there is a desperate “whatever will be, will be,” in the voice there is a silver light, and in the heart there is a stubborn desire not to let go of summer, even if it has long since become an enemy.