Malade

Night here is not rest, but refuge - the only place where you can hide the noise in your head and the smell of the street. In the air - hapt, fatigue, and longing for something pure that is no longer attainable. Between swearing and prayer, fear slips in: that one day your mother will not recognise you, and your father will never have time to be proud of you.

This is not just about a ‘hard life’ - it's about surviving at the bottom, where sleep is a luxury and hope smells like petrol. A world where love is for your brother, pain is a habit, and the only belief is that tomorrow at least someone will live to see the morning.