You’re nineteen years old and you’re at Coachella, the sickest festival there is.

Surrounded by palm trees and babes, your worries melt away. You don a rhinestone bra and smoke blunts with abandon. You share freely with strangers, and others share with you. It’s liberating. Having left “the real world,” you find it bitter by comparison; why aren’t we always this happy, so wild and free? When Beyoncé performs, you transcend your human body.

The crowd becomes one, and you think you’ve found utopia.

Read more


Related Articles


Comments