TAM GDZIE HAJS

Two shiny spots above your head - they look like chains, but they're actually little medals for surviving your own quest. You used to hang posters of your idols, but now you live against their backdrop: the noise of the streets instead of fanfare, sushi delivery instead of the school cafeteria. Everything seems the same, only now you don't dream, you check your bank balance and smile at those who are still worried about “going off the rails.”

Life is made up of paradoxes like these: you earned it, you spent it, you did it, you don't know why, but you're still happy. Tattoos instead of a diary, tracks instead of confessions. And let your neighbor think that “the guy is lucky,” and someone whispers about chance - inside, a thought quietly spins: once upon a time, you would have collected twelve months for this life, but now it collects itself in a couple of minutes on the beat.