Jamal

It smells of the sea, then of slight fatigue from success that came too quickly. Everything around glitters, as if life had been accidentally oversalted with money and smoke. Here, people don't dream - they count who's still afloat. Between the lines, there is bitterness hidden beneath hoarse laughter and new gloss. Hearts are wide open, but only to keep the wind from blowing in - not from feelings, but from the road. The city sleeps with its mouth slightly open, and the beat hums like an engine that is long overdue for repair.