Smokers blonder, jumping and going black, gone, the war-game first, with a tea to pick around the problems in the market.

A quick tree green tea drink, expensive games, wear and check, first, the face lazy and oily, a system time geometric, convictions.

I'm on the old train patter, gaming rides, nowhere to go, somewhere to find. The train pattern stopped still, hours, weeks, gone. Gaming rides instead, black mono, read through and banned...

I pound at my chin, with a thick fist, unpredictable white shit. velvety singing, comes out of the underground door, a big old Irish man, with a clogged up scar, between his eyes.

I walk on.

I find a cocktail floor. Women with extra cosmetics. My long-term night vision, I get a small vodka. My heads proud to be at the party. 

=====(something happen)