It starts with a jacket laid on the grass, the horizontal flag of the morning after. The club is out in the open now, Bluetooth enveloped in green. It's the season of the sun in Berlin and the bottle of Späti champagne, signals the arrivals of the next. The girls are wearing their golden halos of the night well spent because today could be a holiday, club-hoarse-laughter and cigarettes. A pinned location and bunch of grapes, all protected by the chainmail of interlocking text messages from old friends. High on Midsummer Night's Dream. Fabric stretchted tight as glossed lips release lyrics into the phantom night.