Relentlessly, stress__ is back with the wet that slicks any dance floor in a frenzy of feet. Fire just pouring from speakers in tinges of snares and squeaks, and buckets of napalm flooding the crowd. As if gasoline is just chugging upon an open flame searing all bodies into one full form. “Divine Transfer (Concise Mix)” of a dance hall into one body of movement. Melted by sweat and sticky in that icky. A wrap-around. A list of photos taken out of context into the next dimension of dance sensation. Signals in a trans. Tunnel vision like a helicopter for ears. Eyes twitching:
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