Name My Price

A gleaming Maybach, a ceiling studded with stars, and silence, in which the phone stubbornly glows red with ‘green’ messages. Everything seems beautiful - a fleet of cars in the car park, the clock ticking away, new connections nearby. But the louder the luxury shines, the stronger the draught of loneliness blows through. And even if the night is sweetened by luxury and someone else's embrace, a strange coldness remains inside - one that neither the numbers in your bank account nor the leather on the seats can save you from.