Coldsteeze - Donвђ™t Leave Me Here (instrumental) Вђ” Yerevan Beats -

Artak sat on a rusted bench in Republic Square, the city lights blurring into long, neon smears against the evening drizzle. In his ears, the track by Coldsteeze looped—a rhythmic, haunting pulse that felt less like music and more like a heartbeat slowing down in the cold [1, 2].

The beat was skeletal. A lo-fi hiss acted as the wind whistling through the Hrazdan Gorge, while the melancholic piano chords felt like heavy footsteps echoing in an empty apartment. It was the sound of a city that was both home and a cage. Artak sat on a rusted bench in Republic

The pavement in Yerevan doesn’t just hold heat; it holds memories of every soul that has ever paced its pink tuff stone. A lo-fi hiss acted as the wind whistling

As the track faded into its final, distorted hum, Artak stood up. He adjusted his collar against the chill, the ghost of the beat still vibrating in his chest. He began to walk, not toward home, but toward the lights of the Cascade, hoping that if he climbed high enough, he might finally hear something other than the echoes of what he’d lost. As the track faded into its final, distorted

He watched the crowds. Tourists laughed near the singing fountains, their voices drowned out by the steady, muffled thump-thump of the Yerevan Beats production. To them, the city was a postcard of ancient churches and brandy. To Artak, it was the place where she had said goodbye, her silhouette fading into the shadow of the Opera House until she was just another ghost in the fog.