Urusai

There's something about it that evokes summer laziness and street madness - when the sun melts the asphalt and someone under the balcony is singing, whether it's a prayer or a curse, you can't tell. Everything seems simple: beer, pills, talks about the eternal between two stops. But in these words, there's a heat that doesn't let go even at nite. The very one that makes your head spin and a little scared - because everything is alive, bright, and doomed at the same time. It smells like sweat, oranges, and something dangerous. And it's as if that's exactly why you want to stay for another minute, until they come to take the morning away.