Young tatooed, pierced meat marching towards night adventures. What awaits them? Drunktarded falls and bruises, fights orchestrated by girls screams, spilled beer, and putrid vomit on the pavement. They have come here only to discover themselves hollow and exhausted in the morning amidst the scrapyard of the city with hangover and gloomy future looming on the horizon. Families roam blindly, moms with their monkey children and fathers sporting beerbottles and talking belching bullshit. They have gathered here to see the fireworks which symbolize, each year, the fading, painfully withering hopes and glimpses of their ruined lives. As the scarlet sails approach the viewers, everyone becomes quiet, enclosed in the sad, mesmerizing meaninglessness of living.
And yet, and I can see it quite clearly, some couples in the crowd still bear tiny foolish islands of happiness inside their hearts. Let's give a chance to these rare human species, the lightning bugs in the darkness, the lovers, who give us warmth and endow us with grateful tenderness towards the dawn. Amen.