Fionna (2025)

Refn – Nicolas Winding Refn, the Danish director who introduced Mads Mikkelsen to the world. Known for the Pusher trilogy, the video store homage Bleeder, the Viking zen classic Valhalla Rising, and the cult film Drive. Jodorowsky reads his tarot. Some say style over substance, but I find him fascinating—an intro to this album.

Fionna – In Irish, derived from Fionn, meaning “white,” “bright,” or “radiant.” It evokes purity and light but also carries a connotation of wisdom. Beneath that white exterior lie layers of deep insecurity, reminding us that even the most luminous faces have their dark corners.

Bez zajebancije – Speaking directly, without beating around the bush—truth delivered like a punch to the gut. Words stripped down to the bone, brutally honest, with no room for embellishment.

Wannabe netko – A mindset torn between the emptiness of the present and the obsession with an idealized future self. A direct critique of those who believe a fake mask is closer to their true self than the face beneath it.

Sara i Daro – She loves his raw honesty because she’s tired of fake smiles and diplomatic phrases. He admires her position and desire to change the world, even though he knows he’ll never truly tame her.

Barka – Fishing is meditation for people with an excess of inner demons. The sea, cold and indifferent, doesn’t care whether you return home with a catch or empty-handed. It’s a mirror to your consciousness, revealing everything you are—and everything you aren’t—as your gaze drifts toward the horizon.

Hasl i grajnd – The hustler is a charismatic figure who could melt steel with a smile. Living on the margins, creating opportunities out of nothing, always one step ahead of his own shadow. The grinder is raw labor, a machine on two legs who eats pain for breakfast. His success isn’t flashy—it comes through sweat, blisters, and endless repetition. The hustler sells dreams; the grinder builds them with his own hands.

Špinat – My nickname for sensimilla, carrying the aura of health, except instead of iron, you get deep philosophical debates with your own conscience and dormant potential.

Južina – Not just a wind, but a feeling—the silence before the storm, where the air thickens and the scent of the sea intensifies. It’s the lethargy that settles over the coast, making every breath heavier and every thought slower. Behind that oppressive veil lies the promise of change—a rain that will cleanse the air and refresh the land.

Mekana – Music that feels like rolling in silk with sharp edges. A soothing melody with an underlying tension, like a premonition of chaos lurking just beneath the surface.

Rivijera kabrio – A hot summer, the air thick with salt and the hum of engines. In that convertible, with sunglasses you don’t need to hide behind, you’re just another character in a film, cruising down the coast with no destination. Freedom is in the speed, in the wind scattering your thoughts—just like your life, full of pieces that never quite fit together.

Mazili smo se na posteru Fight Cluba – In that moment, we weren’t just lovers; we were a revolution in the catacombs of nightlife, caught between pure existence and the absurd humor of life itself.

Estro vs Testo – Two chemical forces colliding in the ring of life. Estrogen is a sophisticated fighter, elegant in its approach—a ballerina in an MMA cage. But beneath its grace lies a power few recognize until it’s too late. In the opposite corner stands Testosterone—a wild bull, attacking with brute force, driven by pure dominance. Its strikes aren’t just physical—they resonate with that primal, almost animalistic energy that fuels the battle for survival. They cannot exist without each other. Their fight plays out in silence, somewhere between hormones, between attraction and resistance, where physical power blends with emotional balance. And that’s just the beginning.

Ljubavna – For Ernest Hemingway, love was cold, simple, and sometimes painful. His characters didn’t talk about love; they felt it in silence—through blood, sweat, and exhausted glances. Hunter S. Thompson would describe love as madness—somewhere between a curse and ecstasy, a force that pulls you far beyond the limits of sanity. In his world, love isn’t a quiet night in a calm room; it’s an escape, wrapped in cigarette smoke, fast cars, and every available method of shattering rationality. For Chuck Palahniuk, love is a sickness—something that haunts you, forcing you to become a version of yourself you never imagined. Love is a challenge—not something that completes you, but something that forces you to confront the worst aspects of yourself, the ones you’ve spent years hiding.