When New York reopened last summer, the return of nightlife was a revelation. I remember what it felt like as I pushed through the velvet drapes onto the dancefloor, swallowed by strangers’ bodies and crimson lights. It felt raw and urgent, vital even. It instantly offered everything I’d been missing — a connection to my body and to others; the pleasure of being entangled in strangers' lives, even if just for a moment. Something in me cracked open. I slowly raised my arms in the air, squeezed my eyes shut, and cried.
