VAI NO VAPOR

The heat rises, like in a dance where the air is thick and thoughts are short. Everything is decided by the rhythm: the bass booms, the body moves on its own, and in this movement, all propriety, worries, and the contours of the week seem to be erased. Only steam, the shine of skin, and that very moment when it doesn't matter who is leading - the main thing is that it doesn't cool down.

The music hisses as if red-hot iron has been dropped into water. It smells of the street, then of carefree abandon. No philosophy - just heat, pulse, and a spark running down the spine. Everything is boiling, everything is alive, everything is “vai, vai” - to the last drop of energy.