In My Bag

A night when confidence plays too loudly. The air is thick with the smell of gasoline, sticky promises, and something resembling excitement. Everything is spinning in a familiar circle again: a sip for courage, a glance over the shoulder, music louder than common sense. It seems as if everything has been decided, but in reality, it all depends. It depends on who is nearby, on what is inside, on how long you can keep pretending.

The rhythm is like flashes of neon signs, the light hits your eyes, but your heart still doesn't slow down. There's no time for philosophy here, while life snaps its fingers in time and you rush through the frames as if you were living through the lens. And yes, “here we go again” - but that's the thrill of it: not knowing if it's déjà vu or just another round of high life.