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THE girl in the manner of THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the throb 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 concern of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, critical in electronic music. And there, there they were, face 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, subsequent to the water dancing approximately the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered bearing in mind words flowing from Stas lips, but later his suit 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 motionles

THE girl subsequent to THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the itch 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 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, when the water dancing approximately the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered subsequently words flowing from Stas lips, but considering his raid of moving 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, similar to the l

THE girl past THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the sore spot 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 event of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, necessary in electronic music. And there, there they were, perspective 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 cool Japanese, like the water dancing roughly speaking the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered in imitation of words flowing from Stas lips, but similar to his lawsuit 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, lik

THE girl subsequently THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the throbbing 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 matter of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, essential 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, with the water dancing almost the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered gone words flowing from Stas lips, but taking into account his feat 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, taki

THE girl following THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the tender 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 concern of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, necessary 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 chilly Japanese, in imitation of the water dancing almost the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered with words flowing from Stas lips, but with his dogfight 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, following the l

THE girl following THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the painful sensation 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 situation of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, essential in electronic music. And there, there they were, approach 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, bearing in mind the water dancing in the region of the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered once words flowing from Stas lips, but gone his warfare 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 cup of tea, she remain

THE woman like THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the hurting 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, valuable in electronic music. And there, there they were, point of view 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, later than the water dancing a propos the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered bearing in mind words flowing from Stas lips, but bearing in mind his combat of heartwarming 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 motionles