Beats flow through the crowd as a circuit, pulsing beneath gilded illuminations; each note a palpitation. We are one. — JEN WOO

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Nov 29

Nov 29 Beats flow through the crowd as a circuit, pulsing beneath gilded illuminations; each note a palpitation. We are one.

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Nov 29 Perfume from a dress twisted into wreaths of vodka sweat..

Nov 22 “Ephemeral ghosts that exist but don’t. That breathe, but don’t.”