Deep into the silver midnight, the rustle of the streets was silent this time in the morning. Lola, in all her wondrous colours took light steps that led to her small balcony. It was just about the same time of the early morning, her sincere favourite, when all that she could hear was the city. The city of Pairs, as if a lowly playing violin that repetitively entailed the passions and sins of every person.
Lola leaned against the brick patterned wall, the wind as if aware of her presence dancing along the contours of her shadows. She pulled out a black devil cigarette, agreeing to herself that it was her own right to have such an oral satisfaction. She sighed, what a sad beauty she thought of herself. She could not deny those same fingers that played so sweetly the jazz music she would listen for, she would close her eyes whilst the ashes rose around her face and her heart drum… In her mind, peace captured her but she knew that the artist she dreamed for this very morn would not pay her the day of light. She remembered distinctively cleaning out his hotel room, room number 82.
(Part 1)
Island of Words 
Wow that was strange. I just wrote an extremely long comment but soon after I clicked submit my comment didn’t appear. Grrrr… effectively I’m not writing all that more than once again. Regardless, just wanted to say amazing weblog! 409833
Thank you 🙂 I do try my best its not hard writing what you feel, its who I am.