BLOG BY DYLAN H. AGUIAR
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January 1st, 2026. Las Vegas didn’t introduce itself. The Strip dissolved into fog. Hotels vanished mid-sentence. Light hovered without structure, as if the city was holding its breath. This is not the Vegas people expect. This is the Vegas before renewal.
APPROACHING MIDNIGHT
I walked toward the Strip as the rain insisted on making itself known.
Wet sidewalks. Cold wind cutting across my face. People moved forward anyway, heads down, coats tight, reflections stretching across the pavement.
When I arrived, the first surprise: the crowd was thinner than expected. The rain had stripped the night of its ease.
Beauty was buried under heavy coats. Faces disappeared behind black umbrellas. The energy was there — dense, contained, waiting — but it hadn’t ignited yet.
And then, twenty hours later, it happened.
A message from the sky. Red. Unmistakable.
An aurora borealis spread over Las Vegas — rare, impossible, undeniable.
It didn’t feel decorative. It felt like an omen of love, desire and strength.
2026 had arrived.
Get ready.