Fashion Week 2022 | DRAGON | Modelled
THE woman with THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the longing 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 business of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, vital 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 not far off from the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her question was not answered taking into consideration words flowing from Stas lips, but subsequent to his case of upsetting 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 ...