Lo So Che

The city is buzzing like an overloaded amplifier; someone is trying to do everything again and not lose anyone. The air is thick, as if all the peace has been squeezed out of it. He lives on the edge between an exhale and a flash, between the one he forgave and the one he still remembers. The lights of the shop windows are flickering, and it seems even they are tired of watching this endless race of "lost, pretended to be in control." Here, music is like armor and like a confession on the beat. There's a touch of bitterness and steel nerves in every word. My pulse is racing, but the rhythm holds because giving up is no longer an option. Let the world press in from all sides, but there's a special beauty in this weariness when you fall but don't let yourself fall gracefully.