THE girl like THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the sore whiteness of the airline ticket stood out next to a serving bottle of sake and an ochoko[1]. The rain sounded, pretending to drown out the voice of Lie To Me[2], and percussed in the meninges of both as if it were a business of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, necessary in electronic music. And there, there they were, incline to face, without smoke, without others to fill a non-existent track or MDMA to cloud their reasoning or neon lights to illuminate them. -Is that all? -Monique finally blurted out, in frosty Japanese, gone the water dancing in this area the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered when words flowing from Stas lips, but as soon as his case of upsetting his feet upon the tatami to withdraw. For a few seconds, brief, intense and bitter, comparable to the taste of the dregs of her last cup of tea, she remained motionless, past the letters reading
THE woman in the same way as THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the longing whiteness of the airline ticket stood out next to a serving bottle of sake and an ochoko[1]. The rain sounded, pretending to drown out the voice of Lie To Me[2], and percussed in the meninges of both as if it were a situation of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, vital in electronic music. And there, there they were, direction to face, without smoke, without others to occupy a non-existent track or MDMA to cloud their reasoning or neon lights to illuminate them. -Is that all? -Monique finally blurted out, in chilly Japanese, subsequently the water dancing just about the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered taking into consideration words flowing from Stas lips, but with his encounter of touching his feet on the tatami to withdraw. For a few seconds, brief, intense and bitter, comparable to the taste of the dregs of her last cup of tea, she remained