In this lo-fi composition, gentle guitar chords, soft piano tones, and a subtle beat merge into a melancholic soundscape that feels like a solitary evening in the city. The guitar draws warm, slightly reverberated lines, drifting like fragments of thought—memories you tried to leave behind but that quietly resurface in still moments. The piano lays fragile chords above them, sometimes hesitant, sometimes painfully clear, like a conversation with yourself that never makes it into words.

The beat pulses softly in the background, more heartbeat than rhythm, holding everything together without ever overpowering. It creates a fabric of sound that doesn’t demand attention but instead offers space—space for your own melancholy, for questions that may never find answers.

The atmosphere is warm and familiar, yet carried by a quiet heaviness. You can feel the loneliness of the city at night, when neon lights flicker and the streets grow emptier, while you keep driving, keep thinking. This music is not an escape but a silent lingering in emotion—a pause between longing and habit, between the desire for closeness and the fear of falling in love.

Lofi Memories: When Did I Get Used to Avoiding Falling in Love?

elai_yukio