DILUVIO

The thunderstorm outside can wait as long as it wants; the real lightning is flashing somewhere else entirely. The air shimmers with heat, breathing becomes labored, like those who have long stopped pretending everything is under control. This isn't about feelings, it's about desire, about that brief moment when the mind surrenders to the body and becomes sweetly irresponsible. The beat rolls like hot asphalt under a summer rain – sticky, noisy, promising trouble, but the kind you don't want to escape from. In this rhythm, there's no room for innocence: only skin, ringing laughter, and a desire that isn't ashamed of itself. Everything is resolved quickly, but it lingers for a long time like fingerprints on a fogged-up window.