Провинция

Somewhere between traffic jams, lack of sleep and the smell of coffee from a paper cup hides a warm, slightly awkward tenderness. The kind that doesn't require promises - it just asks: ‘feel normal.’ Everything else is noise, money, metropolitan bustle, barns with inner worlds, and slightly drunken confessions on a dictaphone. Sometimes love is not flowers and pathos, but simply someone who will cover your back while life tests your strength again.

It's funny how, out of all this urban confusion, bits and pieces of phrases, a quiet feeling suddenly emerges: this is it - the real thing. Simple, slightly crumpled, but alive.