CUBBA . DRESS . IMPRESS.

It was not Cuba. It was not red dresses spinning around the floor.
But I felt havana a bit.
Felt the fever of havana. Bodies. Many bodies. There is no chance to swing your body unless touching everybody around you. There's a crowd. Red. Drinks. Glances. Wobbling. Eyes. Lips. Kiss...

We looked down. Looked up. Smilled. Gave a wink.
At the dancefloor there was havana. Not because of place, not because of crowd. Because of ours.
Swing me.

And then I have to fly away.

Best passion is unrealized passion. But we will meet soon. Promise. Kiss.