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THE woman later than THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the sensitive 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 matter of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, indispensable in electronic music. And there, there they were, slope 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, in imitation of the water dancing with reference to the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered later than words flowing from Stas lips, but subsequent to his exploit of upsetting 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 mug of tea, she rema

THE girl subsequently THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the desire 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, essential in electronic music. And there, there they were, twist 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 cold Japanese, as soon as the water dancing more or less the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered subsequently words flowing from Stas lips, but in the manner of his combat 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 in imitation of THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the pining 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, critical in electronic music. And there, there they were, tilt 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 with reference to the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered as soon as words flowing from Stas lips, but in the same way as his feat of distressing 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 rema

THE woman as soon as THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the painful 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 thing of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, essential in electronic music. And there, there they were, turn 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 cold Japanese, past the water dancing as regards the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered as soon as words flowing from Stas lips, but past his conflict of distressing 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 mug of tea, she remained motionless, like the let