Writing and photography

Life, the night, the parties, everything remains the same. The same stink of cigarette in my hair, the same handsome man looking at me from afar, the same handsome man who, when he comes near and opens his mouth, I wish he had stayed away. The same spirit in belonging, the same joy in celebrating, the same party in meeting. But nobody knows exactly what it belongs to, what it celebrates, much less what it finds.