Brennpunkt

The asphalt smells like rain, and the air rings with sirens, as if it were someone's eternal soundtrack. It's funny and sad at the same time: you can sit on the roof, dream of your own block and count the pennies in your pocket, and then suddenly drive around in a Lamborghini and chase after Gucci in the text. It's a paradox when reality and fantasy meet at a crossroads - and both seem equally true.

It's all about the power of habits that even the spotlight can't burn away. You can change your address, your clothes, and your car brand, but the shadow of your native neighbourhood still follows you like an old friend who can't let go. And perhaps there is a strange pride in this: no matter what happens, your heart continues to beat to the rhythm of the street.