Po cichu, na palcach

Everything here happens on tiptoes - as if any loud movement could scare away something fragile and almost sacred. The air is thick, slightly metallic, like before a storm. The heart beats slowly but steadily, despite the cracks. Because even pain can sometimes sound beautiful - if you whisper it.

In this song, feelings seem to walk on thin ice: cautiously, but with a strange kind of pleasure. Here, you can allow yourself to tremble with closeness, allow fear to be part of the dance. And while everything is falling apart around you, a fire still burns inside. Small, stubborn, unquenchable.