The world slammed shut, not with a merciful bang, but with a suffocating, slow squeeze. Walls, once mere partitions, became iron cages, confining us within a shared nightmare. Tiago, you, I and all the souls tethered by the invisible chains of a collective fury. A relentless tide of loss and isolation, the pandemic wasn't just a disease, it was a monstrous entity, feasting on normalcy and spewing forth despair. Disbelief, a festering wound, gnawed deeper with each denial, each shattered life a stark reminder of the grim reality some refused to acknowledge. Loved ones vanished, stolen by this unseen terror, leaving behind a hollowness that echoed in the emptiness of our confinement.
Fractured normalcy? It shattered into a million jagged shards, piercing the very core of our sanity. We were drowning, not just in frustration, but in a suffocating rage that threatened to consume us. But instead of succumbing, we clawed our way back, channeling that primal fury into a weapon. Our music became a sonic Molotov cocktail, a blistering inferno of sound that mirrored the inferno burning within. It wasn't just a song - it was a defiant roar, a brutal counteroffensive against the chaos that threatened to extinguish our humanity. This wasn't therapy, this was warfare, and our instruments were our ammunition. We aimed not to entertain, but to awaken, to shake the denial from those who remained blind, and to remind everyone – WE. WOULD. NOT. BE. BROKEN.