‘I remember. The day declines, slowly … A nocturnal fragrance of combined perfumes. Flower petals, incense fumes. On the bodies and faces, orange, pasted rice, saffron. Two young foreigners sitting in lotus, the sacred flower. Their skin looks so white, their hair so long. Mingling with incense, collars of yellow flowers, garland of patchouli leaves, Tibet cedar coals, coming from the waves and the lounge bar of the nearby beach, a techno music throbbing and modern.’
Er zijn nog geen beoordelingen.