TURYSTA

Somewhere between cheap tequila and a feeling of absolute freedom lies a strange kind of happiness. It smells like sunshine, sweat, and Dior all mixed together. When no one knows your name, you can finally be anyone you want: dance until you lose your shoes, argue with the bartender in broken English, laugh too loudly, and not think about where you'll lay your head tomorrow.

All propriety stays at home, and here there are only flashes of neon, the sticky air of the club, and the illusion of eternity that lasts until morning. It's silly, crazy, but truly alive. A drunk tourist in a foreign city, in his own body and not his own life - but finally without fear of being himself.