Rare

The city hisses with wires and nerves. They don't sleep here - under the headlights, they count moves, debts, and those who are still "in the red." Everyone lives at high speed, as if time can be caught up to by pressing the gas pedal a little harder. The air smells of risk and plastic from the new banknotes, and my heart is working like a battery at its limit - it will run down, but it won't stop. Through this hum, you can hear the rasp of survival - confident, weary, but alive. It lacks the romance of the streets, only the stark truth: while others dream, someone is just keeping pace to stay in the game.