Drum and Bass

We were deep in the vortex, somewhere between the renegade stage and a neon slip-n-slide made out of tarp and questionable intentions. Someone dropped a riddim remix of a jungle classic and this fish—this exact one—came alive and slapped the inside of my face with every drop.

Checkerboard flipped my frontal lobe. Underbrim started whispering ancient kandi prophecies. Someone yelled “TURN UP!” and I did—so hard my soul got rescheduled. No idea what time it was. No idea where my left shoe went. But I know this hat was there. And it saw things. Catch bass, not feelings. Rave On.