When the sun sets on the city, the madness turns into tranquility, and on a slowy, dreamy night like this one, we get into the car for no reason, other than to spend time together as young kids brimming with boredom. Sleepy and slow, with the sea breeze slurring the humid air around us, we weave in and out of the few cars still on the road, taking in the special energy of this time of the night.
We crank up the music, take in our youth. Our hair blends in with the night, the occasional lights from the street lamps hitting perfectly against the glass to create a strobe, our little escape from the pains of youth. Everything is okay here- music is our savior, and our city is the canvas.
We are poor, we are young, we are stupid, but none of that matters. It is the best time of our lives, free from the shackles of responsibility and a moment of bliss before we return to a lifetime of work ahead. We will be doctors, lawyers, artists, writers, engineers, leaders, mothers, fathers, and more. We have a world of things to do, but the night air will always belong to our sleepy youths.