The light chatter of new friends fills the freshly blue sky, still being pained a streak of orange.
Across the towering ferns dance stringed neon lights, huts are set in groups of 3 around fire pits, still blazing in the daytime.
Shoeless fairies dance around to guitars, there hair let loose like the wind they prance in.
In the distance you hear a sirens call, amidst it a echoed cheer, all manner of feathered creatures are calling out.
Men and women laid bare by the night, stripped of the visage they put on top thrill, still so beautiful.