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It's as if someone took a notebook filled with teenage dreams and splashed neon colors across the sky. There are unicorns, bicycles with broken brakes, and stars that don't fall but stubbornly rush toward you. It all sounds like a daring instruction manual for a flight without guarantees: the map is torn, the landmarks are lost, but inside there is an engine of pure adrenaline and music.

There is a feeling of freedom in this, which is a little scary and a lot of fun. It's a kind of cosmic escape from “proper” life: when instead of a resume, there are heartfelt notes in the clouds, and instead of a compass, there is someone else's hand that you always want to reach for. And the higher you climb, the clearer it becomes that vagueness and uncertainty don't get in the way, but only make it more exciting.