

With the first rays of sunlight filtering through the windows, the costume party is over, leaving behind a trail of chaos and muffled laughter. In the middle of the room, “King Nero” – as he likes to call himself – sits on the couch as if it were an improvised throne. His feet, dirty and smelly after the long night, find their rest on the exhausted body of his slave. Wordlessly, the slave, still stunned by the echo of the party, uses his tongue to clean every trace of the night, while Nero watches with a satisfied smile, enjoying his crown in the early hours of the morning.
A198