KAT (feat. La Rvfleuze)

A bustling city in your pocket - coins are counted like memories, streets flicker with pixels of other people's successes. Here, everything is counted: someone counts grams, someone counts steps up the stairs, and the result is strange arithmetic - few days at school, many nights on the street, and in the end, a starring role without casting. The voice sounds as if it were recorded on the fly: hoarse, confident, with an indifferent smile - as if talking about their victories and defeats between two traffic lights. Instead of pathos, there are short remarks about breaking out, about being on the other side of the wall now, about how the watch on your wrist should not just be expensive, but a sign of belonging.

The second feeling is the warmth of danger: laughter through a hole in the shop window, memories that are difficult to erase, and empty spaces filled with iron and gasoline. The irony is that every loud sound is both a step towards the top and a grain of anxiety, and the most vivid images are preserved simply because there is nothing else left to preserve. After everything, there is no pathos, only an aftertaste: as if you woke up and realized that the best photos are still on your phone, and you can love them without trying to change the outcome.