Estarabim

It's as if the evening suddenly turned into an anime - with neon lights, smoke, and slightly crazy logic. Everything spins, flashes, and sings along to “a-ja-ja,” while self-irony hides between the lines: as if life were not a dramatic saga, but a fun level in a game, where instead of a sword there is a glass of mezcal, and instead of a scream there is a charm from “Pikachu!”

Seriousness doesn't survive here; it's simply blown away like smoke from incense. Everything is too beautiful to be accidental and too absurd to be planned. In this strange whirlwind of Japanese words and Mexican alcohol, there is an amazing freedom: you can be either a devil or an angel, as long as the rhythm matches.