CAROLINE

The city is bustling, and somewhere between verses and notifications from Tinder, a tiny universe is born - made up of studio lights, wet asphalt, and Karolina's laughter. Here, love smells of ethanol and Dior, and happiness is measured not by likes, but by the number of choruses lived together. Music becomes a business, a relationship and a home all at once - something like a contract, where instead of a signature, there is a beat.

The stage, the smoke, the platinum on the wall - everything shines, but it doesn't blind you. It's just two halves of the world dancing in the rain, as if life were an eternal music video without retakes. And let some people search for meaning, and others for money, here there is only one thing: to play as long as the heart beats and the studio lights burn.