At the end of a night spent in a club, there are songs that cause you that particular feeling of estrangement, while your eyes start to watch the movements and the glances of the people passing you by in a scenery of shadows and coloured lights. You watch people go back and forth, looking for something or someone, and the rhythm of music begins to mark your thoughts about the things you will remember of this summer.

Palms gently shaken by the warm wind, faces of girls regularly high and too messed up in their heads, empty bottles of gin and beer scattered on a meadow, floors smelling of piss and alcohol, attractive boys with a very sad air in their eyes, disappointed eyes watching a pool that becomes suddenly empty during a party, people staring at you for an annoyingly long time, young bodies agonising at dawn, the voice of a girl whose face you don’t know calling you with her number hidden, a long drive on deserted roads with a girl and the silence that dominates, glasses in hand, tennis shoes without socks, sunglasses, the smell of wine and lipstick, people standing around a big bed in an hospital room, “I feel like a wreck” and “what’s wrong?”, me showing smiles and letting go in the sun.