It's nightfall in Lyon. The streets are still crowded but the signs are clear: not for long. A group of tired tourists dragging their feet slowly to their next interim home, clashing streams of busy locals hurrying with their minds full of tasks for the rest of the evening and in the corner of your eye always evasive shadows of vagrants looking to survive another night on the streets... the walls are painted with lights over stone intricacies and the backdrop of the darkening skies wipes out the leftover spills of orange and fuchsia with their pure blues. The streets sound muffled in your ears and under the magnolias the only guiding thought remains the promise of a Night Shift black IPA, to wrap your retreat in clouds of passion fruit and scorched cocoa. Good night, Lyon...