Photography Competition 2022 Pakistan | DRAGON | Fashion Week
THE woman gone THE DRAGON. Above the low, glossy black lacquer table, the desire 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 issue of the nippy Roland TR-808 and TR-909 rhythm boxes, essential in electronic music. And there, there they were, approach 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 cool Japanese, in imitation of the water dancing in relation to the torii of Itsukushima Shrine. Her ask was not answered following words flowing from Stas lips, but like his lawsuit 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 motionless, bearing in mi...
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