Провинция

Somewhere between traffic jams, lack of sleep, and the smell of coffee from a paper cup, there is a warm, slightly awkward tenderness. One that does not require promises - it simply asks, “Feel normal.” Everything else is noise, money, metropolitan bustle, barns with inner worlds, and slightly drunk confessions on a dictaphone. Sometimes love is not flowers and pathos, but simply someone who will cover your back while life tests your strength again.

It's funny how, out of all this urban confusion, bits and pieces of phrases, a quiet feeling is suddenly born: this is it - the real thing. Simple, slightly crumpled, but alive.