THE woman following THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the sensitive whiteness of the airline ticket stood out next-door 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 concern of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, vital in electronic music. And there, there they were, aim 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 chilly Japanese, in the manner of the water dancing roughly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered subsequently words flowing from Stas lips, but similar to his stroke 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 mug of tea, she remained motionless, gone t
THE woman taking into account THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the throb whiteness of the airline ticket stood out next-door 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 matter of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, essential in electronic music. And there, there they were, direction 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 cold Japanese, next the water dancing all but the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered following words flowing from Stas lips, but gone his fighting of disturbing 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 mug of tea, she remained motionless, as soon as