On this almost deserted road that seems to have no living soul, which leads to the remote upper-class district, a teenager indulges his heart in a simple and innocent pleasure, but as dangerous as an automatic weapon left in the hands of a kid.
With a light heart and an overheated mind, Howie lets himself be lulled by the pleasant murmur of his car's engine. A part of him exudes happiness, a happiness that he will do anything to hide from others, while the other part is more rational and aware of his condition and position.
There is nothing to get excited about, he knows it, and no matter how many times he repeats it to himself, he still finds himself with this glimmer of hope that torments him and sparkles in him. What? Is it a crime to want and desire something or someone, or is it a sin to hope? No, it is neither, but it is one more merciless torment to which we submit ourselves sometimes when we have, above all, set goals to stay away from this desired thing.