92i veyron

Luxury and asphalt coexist, as if someone had stuck a gold sticker on a dirty bumper - cheerful, bold, and bordering on self-irony. Here you will find Lamborghinis and Ritz hotels, and the eternal dispute with those who have already written the rules: the victors compose myths, the vanquished compose their own stories. The external glamour is like a mask, behind which lies scarred humour and the habit of toasting one's own wounds, while one's pocket does not always contain what was promised.

Beneath the gloss, you can smell the sharp scent of the street: harsh in places, crude in places, but honest - about blocks, betrayals and those who did not return from the next move. This is not a manifesto or a call to heroism, but rather a diary entry about how the choice between glory and survival is sometimes made in the twilight. And while somewhere an engine roars, all that remains is to raise a glass - to our own, to the truth, and to the fact that even in chaos, you can find your crown.