PARADISE is where your realities are more <br> exciting than your fantasies. <br>The Key West fire that burns in my soul didn’t start as a conflagration. <br>It started as a nice warm sun on my face—and it started at Mallory Square. Imagine stumbling upon a beach party on a small tropical island, with barely clad natives, their bodies glistening with sweat, dancing to primal drum beats, smoking ritual herbs, and drinking rum from coconuts as the sun sank slowly into the ocean. It sounds like a steamy novel, but I swear it’s all true.