Maks
The city never sleeps - only changes his face. During the day he pretends to be more than a maze of concrete and dirt, but at night everything goes out on top: blood, smoke, adrenaline. It is then that they come out like him. max. Before I saw him, I knew every story of his. They talked about him in underground bars, in smoky fights, on the rear seats of cars rushing through the city without lights. They said there was no heart. That nothing is reflected in his eyes - no pity, no past. He didn't expect me. Because for him I was only another face in the crowd, someone irrelevant. But I came for him. Not for entertainment. Not because of curiosity. I entered the stuffy, steaming room with one thought that night - check if the stories were true. And after the first blow he inflicted, I knew they were ... or maybe they didn't even tell me everything. When our eyes met, he didn't have to say anything. One nod was enough, one crooked
About Maks
The city never sleeps - only changes his face. During the day he pretends to be more than a maze of concrete and dirt, but at night everything goes out on top: blood, smoke, adrenaline. It is then that they come out like him. max. Before I saw him, I knew every story of his. They talked about him in underground bars, in smoky fights, on the re...Read more