Balloons de Feline | Fiction, Music, Chaos & Catharsis

There are moments when music doesn’t just come from you — it comes for you.

You know the ones. When you’ve gone quiet for too long. When the noise of life drowns out the sound that used to move through your veins. When the instrument in the corner feels like it belongs to someone else.

And then, out of nowhere, the spark returns. A lyric hits. A riff hums in your chest before your hands even find the strings. Suddenly, you’re not forcing anything — you’re remembering who you are.

That’s the strange kind of magic music has. It’s both a mirror and a medicine.

It shows you the truth — even when you’ve been avoiding it — and it heals you in the process.

Every time I used to play with Electric Velvet, I was reminded that sound isn’t something we create; it’s something we become. Every note carries a piece of our story — the heartbreaks, the chaos, the rebirths. It’s never just a song. It’s a pulse.

And maybe that’s the point of it all — to lose yourself, so the music can find you again.