Peste Zice Lumea Ca-s Golan — Fratii

"They’re talking again, Luca," Mateo said, nodding toward a group of elders crossing the street to avoid them. "They say we’re nothing but trouble. That we’ve got no soul, just greed."

Luca let out a short, dry laugh. "Let them talk. If they see a 'golan,' they leave us alone. It’s a shield, little brother. In this world, if you aren't the wolf, you're the sheep." Fratii Peste Zice lumea ca-s golan

But the mask slipped later that evening. As Luca walked home through a shortcut alley, he found a young boy shivering near a dumpster, clutching a broken accordion—his only means of making a few lei for dinner. Without a word, Luca reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick roll of bills, and handed the kid enough to buy a new instrument and ten hot meals. "They’re talking again, Luca," Mateo said, nodding toward