I once drifted through a skyline of floating neon, gardens suspended like lanterns in the dark, where the hum of old synths met the whisper of stars. It felt like a nostalgic swirl of yesterday and tomorrow, a dream that was both real and impossibly airy.

I’ll keep the lights flickering on, the grooves humming, and let the city spin on its own orbit—so long as you’re ready for the next record to spin.