Всё ровно

The smell of asphalt at night, warm after the rain, and cigarette smoke absorbed into my jacket - everything blended into a single rhythm, where every ‘everything's fine’ sounded like a personal mantra. Not pretentious confidence, but the calmness of a person who has already seen how things break, but survived. There is no glamour or success here - just life, stitched together with courtyards, fatigue and rare calls on an old Motorola, where conversations always end the same way: ‘yeah, everything's fine’.

These lines contain the honest hardcore of everyday life, where wisdom smells of tobacco and the past won't let go, but no longer burns. When there is no room for heroism, there is enough maturity to recognise that sometimes ‘fine’ is happiness.