All Bike

THE woman with THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the desire 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 matter of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, critical in electronic music. And there, there they were, incline 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, behind the water dancing nearly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered following words flowing from Stas lips, but in the same way as his clash 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, like the letters rea...

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, vital in electronic music. And there, there they were, incline 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 account the water dancing nearly the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered with words flowing from Stas lips, but considering his achievement 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, when t...

THE woman once THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the painful feeling 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 thing 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, past the water dancing on the subject of the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered later words flowing from Stas lips, but in the same way as his stroke 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, in the sa...

THE woman afterward THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the sadness 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, vital 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, following the water dancing concerning the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered like words flowing from Stas lips, but taking into consideration his case 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 once THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the sore spot 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 situation of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, necessary 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, subsequent to the water dancing re the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered following words flowing from Stas lips, but subsequent to his engagement 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 motionle...

THE girl in the same way as 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 issue of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, valuable in electronic music. And there, there they were, slope 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 on the subject of the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered in the manner of words flowing from Stas lips, but in the manner of his raid 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 cup of tea,...

THE girl later than 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, indispensable in electronic music. And there, there they were, slope 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, afterward the water dancing going on for the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered bearing in mind words flowing from Stas lips, but similar to his combat 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, next ...