There are whispers - if you listen closely - that a small and secretive community has found it, and walk amongst us, speaking softly of its secrets. They describe a sight of Biblical beauty: a party-army covered head-to-toe in rich golds, silvers and coppers, in emeralds of greens, purples and blues, feathers, crowns, and ornaments adorning their bodies, descending a lush lime-green valley, sun-drenched and roaring with laughter.
They move deep into a natural arena, where bass thumps and rolls across a glistening lake and into the forest, and their eyes reflect the light of soaring flames, strobes, and the winking moon above. Stages bounce and heave from the vibrations caused by a mass of bodies jumping together in ecstasy. And the havoc of a million-and-one lightning conversations, strangers-to-friends in the blink of an eye.