RAKI

Sometimes silence speaks louder than words - especially after an argument where both sides seem to be right, but are still wrong. There is an unspoken honesty in the air and a couple of sips of regret diluted in strong rakia. The music flows smoothly, like evening smoke - without pathos, without salvation, just so as not to be blinded by one's own thoughts.

There is no drama here, only weary acceptance: that feelings, like a drink, fade away with time. That love can smell like salt, like smoke, and just a little like that old playlist you don't want to turn off. Just a moment when everything is let go - not out of pride, but out of necessity. And for some reason, it makes it easier to breathe.