Достойно

The smell of asphalt and heated metal, the dim light of a flashlight, the noise of cars somewhere outside the window - the unvarnished backdrop of growing up. Drama isn't sought here, it's lived: quietly, stubbornly, by the rules of the street, where every scar is a signature on one's own biography. Words fly into the microphone like a confession to the darkness - not a complaint, but proof that the fire still burns within. Fatigue doesn't stop you from holding your head high, even when it's dark and surrounded by concrete. Because dignity isn't a word, it's a habit. And if life is a road, then the tire tracks on the asphalt are not just dirt, but a sign: we've been through it, we've endured, we're moving on.