Anne Trolle/Peder "White Lilies"

Summer night.
3AM.
The room is full of smoke, the radio still playing...

Your bodies glisten in the yellow light.

You look at her.
She smiles.
Her eyes are sly, playful, almost arrogant.
With a sparkle of nearly maddening freedom.
She looks like a cat that has just chased it's prey into a corner and has finally enjoyed its taste.
Tired... relaxed... yet ready to pounce again.

You light a cigarette.
You take a deep breath.
Life is rushing through our veins.
It's intoxicating.