Muchachos

A shiny shop window and deafening bass - it's like walking through a night market where money rustles louder than words and everyone has their own role to play in the pantomime: the boss with his bracelet, the crew in the shadows, the security guard who watches too intently. The jingle of coins and the hoarse chorus of ‘bandit, bandit’ sound like both a challenge and a joke about their own importance - the irony lies in the fact that all this ostentatious luxury is immediately devalued by loud laughter and a cool"j'm'en balec' - ‘I don't give a damn,’ but with a smile.

A rough brotherhood, heated raids on the stage and the smell of cheap cigarettes; somewhere between mockery and an honest thirst for power lies the warmth of the streets. The speech is a rapid stream of metaphors, where each line seems to be written in the notebook of a street captain: bragging, plans, fleeting betrayals and loyalty to one's own skin. It sounds like an evening stroll through a strange neighbourhood: noisy, dangerous, but somehow cosy, like coming home after a crazy day.