Some nights are for coloring notebooks and shoes with sharpies in a tapas bar at the beach. For driving in the drizzly rain, looking at the hat (that I made!) warming my little sister's head, singing loudly to Frank Ocean.
Some nights are for fingers flashing wildly, on strings made of steel on stretched drum, on strings made of nature and knots. For music and the hum of vibrations, pleasant to my ear and my life.