Szczyt

Somewhere between wild desire and bad habits, everything turns into chaos again. Here, love is more like a street race without brakes - smoke, heat, screams and the faint smell of trouble. Every day, there is a promise to be ‘at the top,’ but it turns out as usual: a little passion, a little alcohol, a little pain. And yet it still draws you in - because even though you burn in this fire, you are alive.

Here, tenderness is not in words, but in how to hold on to your hair without letting go of your mind. The world fades to the level of GPS navigation, where emotions replace the route, and every turn leads not upwards, but deeper. Dirty, sincere, loud. As if happiness can be cursed with profanity and still remain yourself.