Dear

There is a stillness at the center of this song that feels almost architectural — like a room lit by a single lamp, everything else in shadow. GSoul builds the track on warm piano chords and a rhythm section that barely presses above a whisper, leaving enormous space around each note. His tenor enters unhurriedly, almost as if he's been waiting to say this for a long time and has decided not to rush it now. The voice itself is the instrument here: it carries the rounded, honeyed quality of classic American soul but with a distinctly Korean emotional restraint — not cold, but controlled, the way someone composes themselves before saying something that matters. The song reads as a letter to a person who may no longer be present, a message that exists somewhere between gratitude and grief, between closure and longing. Gospel-tinged harmonies rise in the second half like a congregation quietly endorsing everything he's feeling. You reach for this at the end of a long trip home, in the blue hour before sleep, when you find yourself thinking about someone you haven't spoken to in months and wondering what you'd even say.