Under the neon glow of New York's night, an unknown woman from Veracruz and her co-worker find solace in each other's arms in a cramped motel room. Aitor Cardone Leonardo's lens captures the explicit details - the way her manicured nails dig into his back, the way he grips her hips, leaving bruises. The room is filled with the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of their ragged breaths and wet, sloppy kisses. They don't care about the world outside, lost in their own carnal world, their bodies slick with lust, their moans echoing off the motel's thin walls.