us. (feat. Taylor Swift)

It smells of faded letters and cigarette smoke that no one ever finished smoking. Everything in the air feels like it's from an old movie - soft, a little dusty, with dialogues that ended long ago but for some reason still echo in your head. Love here is not a feeling, but an archaeological find: when you dig through your memories and find a piece of us, seemingly whole, but already without breath.

The world is cracking from the unspoken, from “do you remember?” and “what if then...”, but it still holds on - on inertia, on music, on the habit of a stranger's voice. It seems that they both know that the end has already happened, but the sound has not yet caught up with the image. And in this moment between what was and what is no longer, there is a strange beauty - quiet, like rain, when you want to open the window, but you know you'll get wet.