Nirvana

Somewhere between the back alleys of childhood and the shop windows displaying niche perfumes, a man grew up who stopped playing by other people's rules. The world around him is still the same - gray, wary, a little sticky - but now it's covered in black “Fefe,” confidence, and the smell of victory, bought not in duty free, but in sweat and sleepless nights. In every line, you can hear a dull “must” - not motivation, but the instinct for survival.

While others talk about how “everything has changed,” here they just do it - without trust, without noise, without pretense. Only numbers, codes, streets, and quiet revenge for the times when no one “below” fired in support. And yet, somewhere inside, there is a childhood dream of the stage, Nirvana, and the spotlight, to finally prove that even “nuisible” people can become stars if they are not afraid to go hungry.