These nights, that happen on a whim.
These nights that take us stumbling down Orange Street in search for more. More what, we’re not sure, but we want more.
These nights of shots and secrets; these nights when, for a brief moment, nothing matters and we can just let go.
These nights when we get kicked out of bar after bar as the bells ring their sad song of endings.
These nights when we shed layers of ourselves and bonds are formed between the shapes that hide underneath. These nights when the stars pulsate through our blood and we can feel young despite the years forever chasing us.
These nights, when the world blurs and edges soften and we find we are still alive.