Moanin
The night has come to a quiet end. The hostess tastefully turned off the bright chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Only the city of Lights bathes the room now, brushing the thick Persian carpets in soft forgiving shadows.The little silver box in your jacket pocket feels heavy. Thoughtless, you grab a blonde, keep it hanging on your lips. In the dark, the tiny spark of the match is a blinding blaze. You fill your lungs with delightful death. The blueish volutes draw illusive shapes in the air....
Voyeur