we sit: piercing raw tofu with chopsticks & (unceremonially) downing sake by the glass. b l i n k i n g fluorescent lights in confetti colors melt into our skin. -no need for melanin in this wonderworld- hands-on exploration of cultures, albeit mediocre. our loft is a haven--hell perfected & heaven vanquished; because everybody knows that dirtydirty girls have all the fun. we've been lounging here for days, mixing cultures like cocktails (shaken, not stirred). varicose muscles stretch & retract like roots begging for H20 compounds; & despite the apparent need for exercise, we can't seem to give up this home-schooled teaching (or perhaps--this personal sham) just to enter the everlasting deception of the mundane world. let's just forget the champagne & stick to wine. we shall wrap ourselves within the vines of italy's grape orchards & bath ourselves in the juices until it leaves a permanant stain. a lasting impression like this is better than a snapshot photo. we just fuel our imagination with these prettypretty places & reach for the intangible. we sit: tasting the grapes within the wine & (ignorantly) grasping the bowl of the glass. &.it's.suddenly.so.tangible.