Llora Llora

Sometimes tears are the only thing that comes out honestly from within. No filters, no posturing. Just salt, fatigue, and a little light at the bottom. The world, of course, pretends that everything is under control, but just blink, and a whole sea slips out from behind your eyelids. It's not about weakness, it's about survival.

This sound is like a black-and-white childhood soaked in rain and adulthood that smells like iron. The sand of time crunches between your teeth, and inside there is a quiet revolution: cry while you can. Because then you'll have to laugh again, earn money, and pick yourself up piece by piece. And who knows - maybe something alive will grow from these tears.