SCRIPT CONTENT
The air is already vibrating before I register the sound.
The bass arrives as pressure, something that moves through bone. Bodies are close enough that we are all one.
Light fractures across people in passing flashes. The electronic music passes through us, reorganising everything I touch.
My sense of orientation loosens without panic, like I have decided direction is optional.
And in the density of it – the press of bodies, the shared rhythm, the closeness that feels like structure – there’s a clarity that doesn’t need language to hold it together.
Not escape, not disappearance, just this: we are safest when we are not singular.
Narration
