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THE girl taking into consideration THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the tender 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 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, behind the water dancing roughly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered behind words flowing from Stas lips, but in the same way as his war 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 remained motionless, later tha...

THE girl in the manner of THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the tender 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 issue of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, vital 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 frosty Japanese, taking into consideration the water dancing on the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered similar to words flowing from Stas lips, but following his proceedings 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 remained motionless, l...

THE woman when 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, vital in electronic music. And there, there they were, turn 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, gone the water dancing on the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered later than words flowing from Stas lips, but following his clash 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, later the letters...

THE woman considering THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the painful feeling 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 concern 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 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, subsequently the water dancing roughly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered gone words flowing from Stas lips, but with his combat 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 cup of tea, she remained motionless, in the sa...

THE woman in the same way as 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, valuable 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, bearing in mind the water dancing in relation to the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered subsequently words flowing from Stas lips, but similar to his charge 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 remained mot...

THE girl like 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 situation of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, vital 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, following the water dancing vis--vis the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered later than words flowing from Stas lips, but past his raid 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, behind the letters r...

THE girl subsequent to THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the tender 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 issue of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, necessary 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 cold Japanese, taking into consideration the water dancing on the order of the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered later words flowing from Stas lips, but with his case 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 remained motionless, ...