BIANCA

It shines like a loud, carefree shop window at night, all made of neon excitement. The world around her is spinning, and she's flying in her twenties like she's on a carousel without brakes: a gulp of "excite," a couple of stories, a little gloss and drama, and she's back in the spotlight again. Everything is too fast, too bright, as if life is an endless party where the rules have dissolved in the smoke from an IQOS. In every glance of hers, there's a feline predatoriness and a longing for a fairy tale where everything is real. But instead of a prince, a DJ, instead of a castle, a club bathroom, instead of love, another Instagram filter. And yet, within this chaos, there's a certain tenderness: a childhood dream of a girl named Bianca, of a purity they no longer believe in but still search for even under neon lights.