When hope dies, it goes quiet.
Not you, not now. Just the echo.
Maybe when she painted you, she gave her heart away.
I left you once, but I still hold on.
Can you hear my broken heart?
All these years, you’re still here.
I know this love won’t let me escape.
This place remembers what we had back then.
You drew the water, you drew the sky — a lonely light against the night.
I didn’t plan to start making music. I just had things I couldn’t say any other way.
No plans. No schedule.
I write while it hurts.
I fell for the woman behind the painting. But the painting was never mine, and there was never an “us.”
Some stories never truly begin, yet somehow they stay with you.
This one found its way into the music.
Listen to the bridge. You’ll understand.
I was afraid of the moment when I would finally understand that hope was gone. I thought it would break me. It didn’t. The pain had already taken everything it could.
This one didn’t want to wait. “Just the Echo” is out 29 October — two days before the next one.
It’s out. The one that had to go first.
“Broken Heart Still Alive” is out 14 November. The picture on the sleeve isn’t made up — it was taken in the days when it was hardest, and I left it as it was.
If a song is finished, it shouldn’t sit for a month waiting its turn. From now on they come out a week apart. “When Hope Dies” is next, on 24 October.
“The Lake” is on hold. It isn’t right yet, and it won’t go out until it is.
“Girl in the Painting” goes out 31 October. My life has a before and an after, and the line between them is the first time I saw this painting. It was never mine — all I ever had of it was a wallpaper on an old phone, too small and too soft. What’s on the sleeve is as close as I could get back to it. I’d rather have that than something clean that isn’t it.
Four of them are written. They go out two weeks apart — three weeks was a long time to sit on songs that already exist. The fifth one is a third finished and I keep walking away from it. It hurts too much to stay with, so it gets no date until it’s done.
Cut the first vertical for the debut. There are two seconds of almost nothing before the last line, and every instinct says tighten it. It stays — that pause is the whole song.
“Still Love You” was going first, and it’s the safer song. “Now You’re the Sound” goes instead, because it’s the one that explains why any of this started.
The first one is out. The rest just shows up.
