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The deaf bass measures steps on the wet asphalt as if the city itself is beating the rhythm of perseverance. There's no room for pretense or pity in these lines: only the habit of holding on, even when the ground beneath your feet is the shifting quicksand of past mistakes. Everything is fair, no fanfare, just life that has learned not to fall from the headwind. Time has become a strict but fair coach. Two decades of struggle, a couple of bruises, a couple of victories, and the same feeling: the game is being played by the rules, even if the referees are asleep. Behind the glass, the past was "out of reach," but now it's a symbol of hard-won freedom. Don't ask, don't boast, just do your thing. And when you hear "it won't happen again," you don't hear regret, but calm confidence: and it doesn't need to.