A War With Time

The city, where even angels once fell, smells of burnt time. The air is saturated with that very fatigue when you don't know whether it's winter or just someone's pause between lives. It seems as if the night has forgotten everything: the snow, the faces, and why it is necessary to remember at all. Only somewhere inside, an old mechanism clicks quietly - a memory that does not let go, but asks to leave.

And in this strange world of surviving feelings, every step sounds like a farewell. Warm, soft, but final. When the sky suddenly becomes a mirror instead of a refuge, and you finally understand: sometimes love is also letting go. Even if your voice trembles and your hands still reach for the past.