Horrid! And gold flushed more

Thursday night was grobing Alice Glass' leg, dancing to Joy Division and The Cure at the afterparty, losing both my oversized glitterjumper and my decency while I flicked my hair back and forth, a crazy carousel of ringlets. It was a dark playground by midnight, kicking our feet towards the moon. It was vehemence at its best, it was the air at war, wonderfully destructive and gloriously intense. I woke up covered in bruises and smelling like someone else's breath.