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A night-time flat, where the light is dim and there is someone else's perfume and a pack of cigarettes on the table: the sound cuts like a blade, and the voice challenges, as if testing its strength. Here, bragging meets ritual - Rolex and Cartier sit alongside a cloud of smoke, words steal around the circle like a habit, ironically clicking a couple of memes about ‘coco-lapins’. All this luxury is not so much about glamour as it is about a mask: someone brags loudly so as not to show the emptiness inside.

Beneath layers of crude humour and threats lies a sense of community and the street, where the code of honour is more important than the rules. Cold self-confidence is intertwined with a slight arrogance, resulting in an almost festive, reckless cocktail - harmful but attractive, like a sleepless Saturday when you want to laugh at the drama and dance until morning, even if the consequences are clear.