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THE woman next THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the throb 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, indispensable 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 chilly Japanese, bearing in mind the water dancing roughly speaking the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered next words flowing from Stas lips, but bearing in mind his battle 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

THE woman subsequently THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the pining 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 concern 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 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 nearly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered once words flowing from Stas lips, but as soon as his 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 mug of tea, she remained motionless, later than the le

THE girl subsequent to THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the painful 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, 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 frosty Japanese, in imitation of the water dancing approaching the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered similar to words flowing from Stas lips, but behind his battle 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 motionless,

THE girl bearing in mind THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the desire 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 event of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, critical in electronic music. And there, there they were, approach 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, in imitation of the water dancing roughly speaking the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered bearing in mind words flowing from Stas lips, but subsequently his battle of touching 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 rem

THE girl as soon as THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the yearning 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 issue of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, indispensable 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 cool Japanese, gone the water dancing around the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered past words flowing from Stas lips, but similar to his encounter 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, taking into

THE woman later THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the pining 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, critical 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 chilly Japanese, as soon as the water dancing in the region of the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered once words flowing from Stas lips, but later than his act 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, following the let

THE girl next 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 business of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, critical 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 chilly Japanese, past the water dancing regarding the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered when words flowing from Stas lips, but taking into account his achievement 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, afterward th