3X

A mixture of smoke, French whispers, and light self-confidence - as if the night itself is singing along. The scent of grass and regrets lazily swirls in the air, and in my head, the same name repeats itself three times, but it still doesn't come. The beat is smooth but not relaxed: there is something of weary merriment in it, when you already understand everything but continue to spin around in this evening simply because it is beautiful.

It seems that love here is not drama, but a habit of looking up, searching for someone's trace among the clouds and repeating a three-word spell. The world around is slightly sticky with vanity and dust, but the artist is not discouraged - he cleanses hearts with “Sif” and laughs because life is still delicious. Even if you are not here again.