A few months ago, I started noting down moments that caught my eye on nights out in New York. At East Berlin, I watched a girl get so low to the ground while dancing to a Bad Bunny song that she completely lost her balance. She realised I was the only person who saw her fall, and she made me promise not to say anything, ending our exchange with a hug as a symbol of trust (does putting this in writing break that pact?).
I saw a woman unsuccessfully try to hand the drummer of a metal band a cocktail from the crowd. He didn’t take it, but the lime wheel hanging off the edge fell on to the stage, and I hoped he wouldn’t slip on it slapstick banana-skin style.