Azul

The sun is scorching as if it has decided to hold auditions for the role of God, and the sea whispers quietly to the rhythm of the bass. Your hair smells of salt, your skin of cocktails and sunburn, and reality melts away with the ice in your glass. No one here counts toasts or searches for meaning - only light, laughter, and the movement of hips to the sound of reggaeton. It's simple: the less fabric on your body, the lighter your soul. And even if your head is pounding tomorrow and your phone shows a hundred unread messages, today the whole world boils down to one phrase: Hace calor, y qué rico se siente.