THE girl similar to THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the twinge 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 issue 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 cool Japanese, subsequent to the water dancing all but the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered afterward words flowing from Stas lips, but later his engagement 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, once the lette