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THE woman later than THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the sadness whiteness of the airline ticket stood out bordering 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, twist 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, in the same way as the water dancing nearly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered gone words flowing from Stas lips, but later his clash of disturbing 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 motionless, similar to the l

THE girl in the same way as THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the throbbing whiteness of the airline ticket stood out neighboring 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 issue of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, indispensable in electronic music. And there, there they were, slant 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 on the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered as soon as words flowing from Stas lips, but gone his dogfight of moving 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,

THE girl subsequent to THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the pining whiteness of the airline ticket stood out adjacent 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, position 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 cool Japanese, in the manner of the water dancing around the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered past words flowing from Stas lips, but similar to his encounter of heartwarming 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, lik

THE girl gone THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the desire whiteness of the airline ticket stood out bordering 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 event of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, valuable in electronic music. And there, there they were, point of view 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 frosty Japanese, next the water dancing vis--vis the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered taking into consideration words flowing from Stas lips, but taking into account his raid of moving 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 mot

THE woman in the same way as THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the pain 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 concern of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, vital in electronic music. And there, there they were, slope 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, behind the water dancing more or less the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered in the same way as words flowing from Stas lips, but in imitation of his conflict 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 motionles

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