Once upon a time there was a young boy. He was strange, and therefore not particularly popular. Aside from being quiet he had a habit of dancing a lot at odd times. It was a very queer dance, hard to describe: His arms moved like waves, his body twisted, turned and swayed. The dancing had started when he was very young, to the amusement of older relatives and friends, and he never seemed to grow out of it. When asked why he did it, he returned the question, ‘Why don’t you?’
I travel a lot these days. Club to club, I spend most nights on the go. Japan, Europe, America – All over the shop. Money isn’t really an issue thanks to having a sizeable inheritance from my parents. Dad was a lawyer, mum was a pharmaceutical chemist. I’ve spent a great deal of my waking hours partying, and I’m pleased to say that I regret almost none of it. There’s never a lack of friends to offer moral support and help spend your money. This is mostly irrelevant though. What I wanted to tell you about was a very special night. A night that sticks in my mind like a splinter of heated metal. It burns with a tropical energy, and sweat sprouts on my skin at the faintest recollection. And yes, if you must know, there was a girl involved.