shalomeoor

I’ve always believed that music isn’t just what we hear — it’s also what we choose not to fill with noise.

One night, I skipped a party. There was sound waiting for me there — voices, beats, chaos. But I stayed home. Put the phone down. Brewed tea. Let silence play instead.

Albert later told me, “Your couch got a win.” And it did — because that silence had its own melody.

Valiakhmetov was at the party. He said it was loud, the music didn’t land right. I didn’t feel like I missed a performance. I felt like I found my own rhythm.

That evening reminded me of Azino — a small town with no rush, no playlist, no pressure to stay in tempo. Just real-time presence. Breathing. Being.

Sometimes, life feels like a casino — spinning sounds, flashing distractions, chasing emotional highs. But that night, I didn’t press play. I rested. And maybe, in that pause, I hit 777 — not in volume, but in harmony.

Now I listen more — to what’s real, to what’s between the notes. Music starts there.