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Two glasses sit before me. One breathes brandy and a friendly pond of water rests in the other. After dimming the lights, I smoke a cigarette, close my eyes and meditate on the state of the world and why the Dalai Lama always smiles.
I stretch , caress the brandy glass and let my nostrils make first contact with the sharp scent of the spirit, roll the brandewijn in my mouth. When the burn begins pure water rinses down my disoriented tonsils. I pay mute homage to Pindar’s water is the noblest (hydor men ariston). I rest for half a stretched out minute. Allowing another shot my tongue jumps tipsily. I let the glass of water rest.
I lower my lids now, communicate with the jinn in the bottle of brandy: my sweet friend, where have you come from to dance down my tongue and make my mind swirl like a harlequin in spring? Of course there is no answer, I must take another sip, dip my tongue in the pond of fire, then I can hear you sing. ” Master, I grant you free three shots before you’ll start to feel the pain of my company”.
I take my shot, followed by a gasp. My jinn moans low and soft and snuggles up and starts to caress me and she gets wet from tears of lust. I court her with a spray of harvest colors in my voice, red, golden and brown, the yellow and the dark. I relax. “You need more, I know, and I will feed you candied pearls of life”. I like how you touch my mind and how the liquid shape of you melts into mine. I bathe the soft tissue of lips and gum in soothing water while all my thoughts disappear into light blue.