RU MOR

The night smells of gasoline and lottery winnings: green cars, flashing headlights, and the promise of escape from the neighborhood to a new life. A voice whispers through the bars - a mixture of reproach, defense, and slightly theatrical boasting: “Everything will be different when the sun rises.” Everything is very simple and at the same time cinematic - chains, tattoos, neighbors' whispers, and a plan to rescue the mother-in-law on the next flight.

This is a story about how distance breaks the heart, but pride takes steps forward: an invitation to the dance floor through the back terrace, a miniskirt, laughter to the music, and promises that sound louder than rumors. The whole melody is like a phone call from another world: a little cheeky, a little tender, with a drop of danger and a large reserve of sincerity.