Mouthfuls of purple rain, a taste of blackcurrant and honey, a blooming orange blossom, rapture in an 8-track, that sacred second between songs, violet and amber lights, a cyclone on the dance floor.

The tongue twist of a maraschino stem, sweet stained lips, cherry cream pie, milky waves of cumulous clouds, bourbon vanilla icing, a silky confection, an insatiable craving, a dessert of debauchery and glamour.

Whipped cream foam, a suede jacket, the scent of cedar, blood orange, the lyrics burn-baby-burn as your heart floats in a fluffy vanilla sky, the night you fall in love in the Meatpacking District.

A warm shock to the system, honey-coloured light, a red-apple heart with an electric synth beat, violet eyes, a utopia for misfits, wallflowers in bloom, almond tree blossoms on a crisp autumn night.

Soft pink lipstick shimmering through raindrops, a hint of freesia in the air on fresh wet pavement, the sound of jazz piano, warmth with a faint scent of clove, a burning voice that croons what have you done to my heart?

The blink of a Godardian eyelash, the pages of Proust, smoky curls of incense, the spark of a lemon drop cocktail, Parisian tongues and art deco jade, amber flames crackling to the sound of spilled champagne.

Sun-drenched shores, a pulsing beat, a breeze of salt and sea, the sunset surrendering to dusk, a stairway to heaven, a haze of opulence, myrrh and musk, neon light piercing the night, a dawn that never comes.

A siren’s song in sapphire waters, a fresh sprig of jasmine growing through a crack in blue asphalt, spinning happy flowers of a Murakami kaleidoscope, unfolding and opening to you like tuberose in spring.