Апероль

Memory is like an old phone - sometimes it gets a signal, sometimes it malfunctions. It seems like all the passwords to feelings have already been saved, and then suddenly there's another “incorrect entry.” And it starts all over again: cautious recognition, awkward smiles, as if there hadn't been hundreds of conversations, shared songs, and sleepless nights. It's funny, but that's where the magic lies - every time it's like a system update where bugs aren't fixed, but you just learn to live with them.

Love here is not about drama or “forever,” but about constantly “starting over.” It's about dancing under neon lights and burned passwords, forgotten grudges and nights where even the apocalypse seems romantic. Everything collapses - except for the habit of getting to know each other again, as if for the first time, and diving headfirst into this house without checking the depth.