(Seems like everything I see reflects the love that used to be)
Spectator of an ephemeral love where pleasure seems easy. An opportunity to shed your identity, for anonymity.
An exchange of moments without complexion, without a name.
Fleeting, passionate, extreme. Unknown, addictive kisses. Passengers who disappear at every step.
For many it has nothing to do with love. For others, perhaps this is the word.