Zwykły Szpont

Sometimes feelings seem like a transaction, only without a receipt or the right to return. Everything glitters - gold, leather, promises - but beneath the gloss, you can hear the crunch of a broken ego. Here, love and money have long been entangled in a single chat room, where every message is either a flirtation or a bill. Pain is served with a cold smirk, as if champagne was ordered after it and everyone moved on. The music sounds like a neon evening after a quarrel: loud, beautiful, and with a slight smell of falseness, which for some reason is still difficult to look away from.