There are mornings when waking up feels like an act of violence against yourself, and then there are those when the very first sound in the air gently nudges you to life. This is exactly how View by Bequem feels — like a kind alarm that doesn’t shout, but taps your shoulder. The track doesn’t open the day with harsh light; instead, it spreads a soft, blurred glow, inviting you to linger for just a moment longer.
There’s a guitar — simple, almost homely, as if someone is playing beside you, sitting on the windowsill. It doesn’t call or demand — it merely whispers: look out the window, the world is already here. And it doesn’t matter if rain taps on the glass or sunlight cuts across your eyes: this music can make any weather feel right. It gives a rhythm for movement, yet lets you remain light, unburdened by plans.
View sounds like breakfast made without rush. Like toast with bacon or a cup of fragrant coffee — familiar and reliable, a small formula of happiness we often forget. In this track, everything that makes lofi great is gathered: ease, warmth, a sense of home. But there’s something more — an elusive feeling of presence, as if the day itself leans in, ready to start with a smile.
And maybe that’s its true magic: it doesn’t just play in your headphones, it becomes the backdrop of your morning, a space where you learn to notice the small things. The gaze out the window. A drop on a leaf. The warmth of a cup in your hands.
In the end, I realize: View isn’t just music to wake up to. It’s a reminder that every morning can be a beginning, if only you give it a chance.
