Friday night comes and I feel like floating, again. Like if all the colors of the sunset broke in through me, lightening me up. Preparing me for the long night, as I think of strategies to make it through the waves of sound, lights and people. One beer, two beers, one cocktail. I stop. As I find my place in the crowd I look around, and see. I start wondering why I don't do this more often. Stop, and see. Because there's a sea of things to see, standing in the dance floor, eyes open, mind even more. Thinking that maybe (definitely, maybe) I've been doing it wrong. And I was certainly doing it wrong when I drove back home that night and didn't remember it the next morning. Because nothing happened, but what if it did?
So back to the dance floor, looking into me but also around, I saw you. Struggling with that mezcal, and I knew the next day you would say "Never again... Until the next time". But what if there was no next time? What if we only had this time to get it right. To make things right. Then maybe we would stop wondering why are we sad, or worried, lonely or heartbroken. Maybe we would see things clearer, sounder. Maybe...
