просто лети

Sometimes the past looks like an old photo album - a little dusty, but still smelling of something alive. The pages turn with a quiet click, and somewhere between the frames, “we” gradually becomes “I.” But without tragedy, just a natural progression: someone moves on, while someone else stays behind, looking back at the lights they once lit.

This sound is a gentle farewell without pathos. Like a conversation between two people who have finally learned not to be afraid of silence. When the wind is no longer an enemy, but a guide. When words no longer save, but also no longer hurt. And all that remains is to fly towards change, while inside, a small but resilient flame still burns.