Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets

In the shadows of the bright Las Vegas lights, it’s a curtain call for an old-school dive bar; a niche of reality in a city of artificial happiness, a land of exile destined for people who seek to hole away from the spotlight. A disparate mosaic of loners who rally in this temple of solace and getaway, teetering between dignity and debauchery, reminiscing the past while repelling the future: the bar’s habitués are in a state of grief, humming a swansong for their dying refuge. An elegiac portrait of a fading world of memories and stories enshrined in emptied glasses and puffs of smoke.