I was there

The image was simultaneously crystal clear, blurred and dreamy. The smells and sounds drifted through my brain. The whole visceral experience couldn’t have lasted for more than a microsecond as my head sunk into the pillow- and then it was gone. I’m pretty sure it was Bali. There was a square I remember walking across one night, following the music toward a bar that would serve cocktails either delicious or poisonous, depending on the spirit. (If you ever have the chance to try Arrack, DON”T FUCKING DO IT) I remember the warmth of the air. The smells. The absence of worry. That’s a privilege. One that’s not available to the locals. To say it was magical would be a bullshit cliche. It was just fun. Vacation. A privilege.

I think it was Bali. I try to remember. It’s been too long, I miss it. I’m here. I was there.

Once.