I’ve chased that exact vibe on the outskirts of some camps in the Balkans, the kind of paint that drips off a cheap brush while the kids stare back like they’re in a live performance. I shot it all raw, no edits, just the spray, the shouts, the way the walls breathe. Let’s trade footage—give me your gritty bits, I’ll toss in my own raw shots, maybe we can build a mosaic that keeps the edge, no sweet‑tuned music, just the noise that says they’re alive.