Blue or blaze. The vast Korea plains careening by through the windows or drowning in the navy fog. Rooms lit warm by heated hanging glass, like little houses afire from afar, building, boiling, combusting to a madness. Smoke from the candles, the cigars, to every gaze, rising powerful. Imbued in a mystery, the land laced in the glow and the graze of the pitch sunset. Like little dances in the mind.
Burn beautifully bright.
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