Diving in is a betrayal of the light, a freedom to fall. When the current etches ripples on the eardrum, when the beat turns into liquid gravity, the body becomes a transparent container - dissolved in the folds of the scale, sinking into the uncoordinated blue. Here, time is compressed into sand grains. The cold light of the synthesizer swims like phosphorus fire, and the fragments of human voice are the codes left by drowning victims. In low-frequency tremors, bones resonate with seawater at the same frequency. The abyss is not darkness, it is just another grammar of light: Glitch sound effects fission into glowing plankton, bass lines are fossils of giant whale spines, and distorted melodies are seeping out from the silicon-based wounds of corals. You are sinking, but it feels like you are flying. The tentacles of the data stream wrap around the ankle, memories are crushed into bubbles by pressure, and float towards the fictional water surface. But where exactly is the endpoint? When the headphones become the only oxygen tube, when the heartbeat is on the same frequency as the Drop segment - perhaps the abyss is already an inverted redemption: only complete weightlessness can touch the untamed sea inside the body. So you learned to decode your own tides in silence. And all echoes will eventually come ashore.