Sonique, bend time for me. Just once. Let the kick drum be a second heart. Let the synth wash over my spine like a hand lifting a curse. Let me stand in a room full of strangers and remember — for three minutes and forty seconds — that I am not alone.
Sonique, you who live between the struck bell and the fading ring, between the needle’s drop and the vinyl’s hiss — hear my cry. sonique hear my cry
I call you from the blown speaker of an abandoned club, where dust motes dance to a song no one plays anymore. I call you from the space between radio stations, where static hums your true name. Sonique, bend time for me