The tide came in, sweeping up shells in its wake and returning them to the sea. Jellyfish spent their last moments upon the shore, akin to semi-deflated balloons with navy innards.
My skin feels balmy, kissed with an ocean breeze of salt and refined sand. As the sun plays hide-and-seek with the beach, the steady hum of the bass resonates through the ground into my lowlaying ears. Coupled with the crashing of the waves, a lullaby for giants adrift in the sky…

Welcome to Miami: where everybody is somebody, at least for tonight…
Glamour and stilettos, lackluster and plastic. Perfection in a candy-coated shell. Sugar always melts in the rain. Seattle prevalence. We don’t need no stinking umbrellas.
Note to self: Fuchsia and Black hair is a massive conversation starter. Maybe with a dash of intelligence… but come 6am on the South Beach strip, its quite hard to find. Hype Hype Hype, show me your follow through, take me with out, if you’re actually going somewhere.

In the capable hands of my transatlantic loves. “we’ll take care of you darling,” they said. Misery might love company, but so does a fantastic time. We’ve been lucky to form the latter. *Birds* of a feather flock together. I just happen to be the token American. 4/4 and booty breaks as far as the eye can see, as long as you can last on your feet. I found my solace at 90 degrees in a smoke filled arena that had my blood pumping at 175bmp, a brief sanctuary from the disenchantment of it all… Home.

Your pixelation defragmentation will be the death of me.

“I recognized your scarf” (And I thought to myself, but I never wore it around you…)

I want to bury my face in my suitcase, remnants of scent drift faintly from an article or two…