AP Freestyle

The glint of watches through the dark windows of cars, the cold of the street, which has long since ceased to be about the weather. Here, success is measured not by likes, but by square feet of land behind a high fence, where even neighbors cannot shout to each other. In words, it's an eternal race: yesterday it was considered survival, today it's “rose gold” on the wrist. It's funny and bitter at the same time - as if status toys should cover up the fatigue of eternal confrontation. Music turns this into a confident step: loud, icy, and a little provocative, like a challenge to everyone who still has “no hits.”