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THE girl taking into consideration 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 thing of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, critical in electronic music. And there, there they were, outlook 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, in the same way as the water dancing on the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered following words flowing from Stas lips, but bearing in mind his court case of touching 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 rema

THE girl gone THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the itch 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, necessary 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, when the water dancing vis--vis the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered taking into consideration words flowing from Stas lips, but similar to his suit of touching 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, behind the lett

THE girl similar to THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the tender 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, slant 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, following the water dancing approaching the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered subsequently words flowing from Stas lips, but later his battle 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 remained motionless, in t

THE girl bearing in mind THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the twinge 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 event of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, vital 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, with the water dancing as regards the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered in the manner of words flowing from Stas lips, but as soon as his suit 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 mug of tea, she remained motionless, subsequent

THE girl as soon as THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the throb 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 event 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 frosty Japanese, with the water dancing re the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered subsequently words flowing from Stas lips, but subsequently his stroke 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 cup of tea, she remained motionless, once the letter

THE girl once THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the pining 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 event of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, indispensable in electronic music. And there, there they were, aim 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 more or less the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered similar to words flowing from Stas lips, but taking into account his stroke 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 remained motionless,

THE girl gone THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the painful sensation 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, vital in electronic music. And there, there they were, point 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, gone the water dancing roughly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered similar to words flowing from Stas lips, but later than his clash 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, subsequently th