Sound of trams often echoes through the chambers of a long-lost memory. In the quiet streets where I once walked, I felt its metallic rhythm. This noise is more than just a ghost of a past love. It is a profound internal architecture of our personal history. This sound of trams helps me process the layers of my previous life. As a highly sensitive person, I hear the music in the mundane. It turns old tectonic heartbreaks into a stable, Malachite peace. Within these nostalgic intervals, the soul finally finds its rest. We move from the friction of longing to the stillness of acceptance. The modern world moves too fast to listen to the tracks of the heart. However, I choose the quiet elegance of this found peace. This memory is a mineral-rich space for our growth. By honoring the past, we reclaim our radiant, enduring strength.
Zvuk tramvaja
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Magmastar sluša i ne ide za njim. Grad je isti, svjetlo poznato, hladni siječanjski zrak dodirne kožu kao stara fotografija. Mladost se javi, ali bez poziva da se vrati. Dvije mladosti ostaju tamo gdje pripadaju — u prošlosti koja je bila i dovoljno voljena da se pusti.
Zima na ulicama, toplina stana, želja da se svijet nekad davno zaustavio u našu korist. Danas Magmastar stoji mirno. Zna da se život ne ponavlja da bi bio istinit.
Kad tramvaj prođe, u trbuhu se pojavi bol, tiha i kratka.
Tuga ne objašnjava. Samo kaže: bilo nam je predivno.
Neka sjećanja su samo posjetitelji. Podijeli ovo s onim tko zna pustiti prošlost s ljubavlju. 🤍
Le bruit du tramway
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Magmastar écoute et ne le suit pas. La ville est la même, la lumière familière, l’air froid de janvier touche la peau comme une vieille photographie. La jeunesse appelle, mais sans invitation à revenir. Deux jeunesses restent là où elles appartiennent — dans un passé qui a été assez aimé pour être laissé partir.
L’hiver dans les rues, la chaleur de l’appartement, le désir que le monde se soit arrêté en notre faveur il y a longtemps. Aujourd’hui, Magmastar reste immobile. Elle sait que la vie ne se répète pas pour être vraie.
Quand le tramway passe, une douleur apparaît au ventre, silencieuse et brève.
La tristesse n’explique pas. Elle dit seulement : c’était merveilleux pour nous.
Certains souvenirs ne sont que des visiteurs. Partagez ceci avec quelqu’un qui sait laisser partir le passé avec amour. 🤍
The Sound of the Tram
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Magmastar listens and does not follow it. The city is the same, the light familiar, the cold January air touches the skin like an old photograph. Youth calls out, but without an invitation to return. Two youths remain where they belong — in a past that was loved enough to be let go.
Winter on the streets, warmth of the apartment, a wish that the world had stopped in our favor long ago. Today Magmastar stands still. She knows that life does not repeat itself to be true.
When the tram passes, a pain appears in the belly, quiet and brief.
Sadness does not explain. It only says: we had it wonderful.
