So here I am in Miami. The city of Vice. The city of the 70s. The city where everyone is naked, tan, beautiful and branded. The city of of buzzing scooters, and no walking allowed; unless it's Miami Beach.
I flew in yesterday, on a plane. An old plane with coal blackened wings. Stitching on the back of the head rest.
I am staying at the Hilton in Biscayne Bay and it feels completely dead. It feels like no one is there. It feels indefinite. I am on the top floor. Floor 21.
The windows do not open. The view is fantastic especially at night.
My birthday is in 3 days.
Pictures in next post.
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