This 2025 the surprising noise-core album extremely hardcore for the ears of anybody, from Russia we will have new noise music on the sub label No Records, this time the CEO found something special in it, it's the key of derivation dynamic from Merzbow class, more than a simple objective to destroy the soul listening to this, we found very hardcore animalistic sound, mixed on Nühn studio to left volume on the works, because the pure production could annihilate the ears of the audience. We think making an outing to noise music is the example to accept that in 2025 this music genre is more popular than 20 years back at the time, so now we have the obligation to make it out from at least our sub label, our listener could find this style many times in the next few years and decades. It's time to get back to the annihilating mode sound. An album that doesn’t ask for attention — it waits for silence. From its first breath, Pisz do mnie listy dissolves into a world suspended between longing and restraint. It speaks without urgency. It observes. It listens back to you as you listen to it. This is not music built for structure. It is built for solitude. For letters never sent. For thoughts that stayed unspoken. Every track is a memory of a memory — vague, trembling, authentic. The textures are weathered. The melodies, if they exist, are worn down like voices on old tapes. It doesn’t rely on rhythm. It relies on suggestion. On presence. On absence. You feel the ghosts of pianos. You hear the hiss of a room that might no longer exist. The music is dust in the air. It never settles. It hovers. There’s no climax. No resolution. Only time — slowly opening and closing around itself. Pisz do mnie listy is not a cry. It’s a murmur under the breath. A farewell said in a language no one remembers. Each piece feels handwritten. Not composed — confessed. Not performed — released. You don’t listen to it. You enter it. And when it ends, you’re not sure anything ever happened. Or if it just echoed your own stillness back at you. This is music for when you're still awake at 3:40 a.m. For when nothing matters, but everything feels like it should. It is vulnerable without asking for pity. And beautiful without asking to be seen. It doesn’t speak loudly. It doesn’t want to be repeated. It wants to be remembered. Not by everyone. Just by the right ones. It is not an album you finish — it finishes you in small, quiet ways. Pisz do mnie listy lives where feeling becomes fog, where memory turns to texture, and where sound becomes something almost human. In its stillness.