Luciérnagas

The sadness here is not loud - it is almost transparent, like breath on glass. The world seems to have fallen silent, listening as someone tries to remember the light - not the light of a lamp, but the light that lives within a person. Everything in this sound is about tenderness that has survived loss and now carefully carries the memory so as not to spill it.

The music flows like a candle in the dark - quietly, but with fire inside. It is not about death, but about what does not die: about love that remains in the movement of air, in words that are no longer spoken but can still be heard. And if you listen closely, it seems that between the pauses someone is whispering: “I am here. Always.”