Passport

The passport of passion is ready, luggage - exclusively hand luggage. The cabin is in “manual control” mode: seat belts jingle, the seat slides back, silence is muffled by a hand over the lips. A good girl flips through the rules and suddenly chooses turns - reactions like currency, stamps - on the skin. The pulse works on autopilot, but the liner does not: an express course to first class, where pop jerks shake like a fuselage in an air pocket. Cheeky and brilliant, almost couture, this melody turns flirting into geography - from a “private island” to a high note. ✈️