There are cities that shine, and cities that smoke. I grew up in the latter - streets lined with cigarette ends, shouting neighbors, rain-soaked concrete, and the smell of boiled potatoes that lingered in the air.
These stories aren't glamorous. They're not tales of success or redemption wrapped in a neat bow. They are snapshots of survival - of what it means to get by when getting ahead isn't an option.
The Streets Between Us is a love letter to working-class neighborhoods, to the mothers who made magic from nothing, the kids who learned to smile with empty pockets, and the quiet, quiet strength it takes to carry on.
