It's late, the dance hall is slowly emptying, only a few die-hards remain.

You find yourself sitting at a table with a bunch of strangers talking about everything and nothing, you keep asking yourself what you're even doing. The cure is playing as loud as the venues permit allows, but all you hear is the silence of your own thoughts, you stare I to the empty space on the center of the dancefloor. The warmth of the booze had worn off and a sense of detachment slyly takes its place.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR!