Catrin (the city) – Fred again..

There’s something about this song that feels like walking through a city at 3am.
Lights blur. Thoughts drift.
And your body is moving through space, but your heart is stuck in something you can’t name.

Catrin (the city) is minimal — almost hypnotic.
But within the loops and soft pulses is this deep emotional ache, like the hum of loneliness under streetlights.

It doesn’t scream.
It whispers.
And in that whisper, it speaks to something I’ve felt many times:

That strange mix of isolation and beauty.
That longing for someone to really see you… while surrounded by thousands of people who don’t.
That sense that life is moving, always moving — and yet part of you is still paused, waiting.

I lived in London for a long time.
And I felt this song in my bones.
Because for all the noise, the colour, the motion — I was so deeply alone.

There were moments I’d walk down packed streets, full of life, but feel like I was disappearing inside myself.
Eventually, that disconnection took its toll.
I lost my mental health in that city.
But now I can see it was more than a breakdown — it was a breakthrough.
Something had to crack open for me to start again.

I still love the city. I was drawn to it for a reason.
But the truth is, it was both the thing I ran to…
and the place where I fell apart.

Fred again.. captures that tension so well.
That beauty laced with ache.
That sense of holding something fragile while the world rushes past.

Reflection Prompt:
What’s the city inside you trying to say — and is there a part of you still waiting to be met in the quiet spaces between all the noise?