YOLO
My life was in a haze. I was moving way too fast or way too slow, at times. We were jet lagging consecutively when we arrived at our first destination.
LA.
The city of America. One that reminded me of big towns and buildings and neon lights at night. Crowds rushing in and out of bars and parks, and clubs and restaurants, people of different ages and localities, marked their entry now and then. I had visited twice, one during the big rise of our debut album and the other time when interviewers marked a great demand for us.
Now, it was the third time and my excitement was no less, except somewhere deep inside, I felt a range of different mood swings.
"Hold yourself, Yolo."
I looked at Falcon whose warning had been a deadly whisper. He looked as tired and depressed as us. Our first
