Alone on a cold platform in the deep of night. The echo of a heartbeat, the ghost of your presence-still lingering. Only the beat points unwaveringly toward the future. Echoes are memories of loss. The line of dawn-a boundary where unseen light begins. Through sound, we carve through the night. Through rhythm, we carry what words cannot say. Even in doubt, even in absence, music keeps moving forward- and with it, so do we.