Пацаны

The city breathes out noisily, hoarsely, as if after a long sleepless night. Here, everyone moves as if they are always rushing not to be late for their own destiny. The boys flip coins not for the glamour, but to prove that they can do it, rise up, not dissolve into the concrete. Some have a phone call, some have a fling, some have a dream in their pocket between the change and the keys to someone else's car.

Everyone wants to get out - even if it's just a step, even if it's just a meter up. The world around them is a little crooked, but it's honest: it's not about the romance of the streets, but about the energy that beats in their chests like bass in speakers. And while the city blinks with neon lights, the boys move - some to the rhythm, some against it.