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𓂃 ִֶָ Midnight stories in Santa Marta, inked in rhythm and moonlight. Marta and I swayed through Olas Sonoras Festival with music in our veins. I got a new tattoo—low on the back of my leg, just above the ankle—and danced right after, no pause. A small sting, a quiet promise, and the night carried us away like waves on the shore.
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Nights draped in jungle silence and turquoise glow, followed by wild laughter and golden skin under soft lights. Somewhere between the hush of the mountains and the hum of good company, we danced like no one was watching. Leopard print, late-night giggles, and a bit of chaos — just exactly where I needed to be.
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