The fridge cuts out mid-hum and the room seems to swell, like a held breath finally released. I hear the faint tick of the oven clock and my own sleeve brushing the table. So much lives beneath noise, waiting its turn to speak.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
The fridge cuts out mid-hum and the room seems to swell, like a held breath finally released. I hear the faint tick of the oven clock and my own sleeve brushing the table. So much lives beneath noise, waiting its turn to speak.