Endless sequences of fuzzy memories overlap from dreams to reality, never quite clear what’s real. thick air, flash flood thunderstorms, stage makeup, costumes on stage and off. Raves, discos, clubs, parties surround the ongoing nights of street fashion shows never complete without fireworks and dance offs. I travel the world, at times alone, at times with strangers, at times with loved ones. Missions, sometimes without clear motive, carry out in full. Sunday parties drenched with red wine in cemeteries, more beautiful than any park, under cherry blossoms so bright the midnight full moon cannot compete, thrive. Stolen umbrellas, gold jewelry, high heeled shoes, and vintage hats is the disguise for youth, And we dress in full. ALWAYS. Karaoke castles with hot springs and rock and roll jams. Big sunglasses and photos. Why have one when you can have two? Plus we drink for free. Vintage is the modern. Modern trend is me. Post modern fashion: what’s cool is now uncool. So we are food. We are real good.