Flash drops us right into a swirl of split-second memories: Maëlle hears distant sirens, feels the push-and-pull of waves, and sees sunless mornings that look familiar yet strangely dim. Like a camera shutter snapping open and shut, the past keeps lighting up the darkness, showing quick images of a relationship that has already “unsubscribed.” These mental snapshots are so vivid that they steal her sense of space, making it hard to breathe in the present.
Inside those flashes, Maëlle wrestles with mixed emotions:
The song paints heartbreak as a looping slideshow—each image both comforting and painful—while Maëlle teeters on a tightrope between letting go and being pulled back by regret. Listening feels like peering into someone’s private photo reel, where every flash is a reminder that some goodbyes keep echoing long after they are said.