TAR is not about destruction. It’s about what remains. The air after combustion. The silence after chaos. A scent that feels like a sketch unfinished, raw, real. Smoke curls around steel. Tar melts into ink. Each note is a residue, a trace of what once was alive. TAR does not perfume you. It stays on you like a memory that refuses to fade. “Existence, in smoke - When beauty burns, art remains"