The skies have turned a mellow turquoise on a balmy Thursday evening in Monte Carlo. Already, the barriers at Rascasse have been lifted out of their bolt holes in the ground, and a steady stream of people and traffic slowly jostles past the famous trackside cafe that shares its name with the corner.
On the building's roof, a covers band blasts out a sanitised version of Razorlight's America. As the sun goes down, the seafront turns into a throbbing, pulsing nightlife mecca as the young and beautiful come out to play. Gradually, everything goes blurry.
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