KAT (feat. La Rvfleuze)

A bustling city in your pocket - coins are counted like memories, streets flicker with pixels of other people's successes. Here, everything is counted: someone counts grams, someone counts steps up the stairs, and the result is strange arithmetic - few days at school, many nights on the street, and in the end, a starring role without casting. The voice sounds as if it were recorded on the fly: hoarse, confident, with an indifferent smile - as if talking about their victories and defeats between two traffic lights. Instead of pathos - short remarks about breaking out, about being on the other side of the wall now, about how the watch on your wrist should not just be expensive, but a sign of belonging.

The second sensation is the warmth of danger: laughter through a hole in the shop window, memories that are difficult to erase, and empty spaces filled with iron and petrol. The irony is that every loud sound is both a step towards the top and a grain of anxiety, and the most vivid images are preserved simply because there is nothing else left to preserve. After everything, there is no pathos, only an aftertaste: as if you woke up and realised that the best photos were left on your phone, and you can love them without trying to change the outcome.