Run

The city flashes by like a fast-forwarded news reel: sparks underfoot, traces of gunpowder dust, a scooter without number plates and a promise not to stop. Here, ambitions are cosmic in scale and armour is forged in the courtyards: glass is chipped, but the course is straight. ‘I gave so much - keep going anyway!’ - and under this slogan, addresses and faces are left behind so as not to get lost yourself. In the verses - the accounting of risk: iron in a holster, bitter syrup in a glass, machines counting cash, the state dreaming of turning off the lights. But in the chorus, there is noticeable warmth: there is enough strength to quell someone else's anxiety with a dance, to raise your head in the rain and drag yourself ‘step by step,’ without pause, without drama. A street novel about speed and survival, where fatigue hides behind a hoarse laugh, and the fear of getting lost is honestly acknowledged and therefore almost tamed.