The fairy lights on the terrace hum, filling the warm air with an undercurrent of electricity. Plates are clatter from the kitchen and heels clop past on the still warm pavement. The soft wood gently creaks under the weight of sidelined baggage and the slick soles of servers slipping through the chairs, unseen. Plates clatter and harmonious chatter dips in un-orchastrated synchrony while the triumphant trumpet soars- dances- in it's overture. I breathe it in, one mouth to another; reanimated. No. Not reanimated- reborn. I can feel the electricity in my nerves, the drumbeat of a thousand heartbeats under the fading purple sky, the lights around my head like a rainbow halo. I'm no longer pushed or held by waves. I'm electric, containing currents of frequencies.