In the bustling after echo of a drained market town, amber feathers rustled gently. The cobbled street rolled teasingly beneath calloused feet as mud encased toes tiptoed stealthily towards the closed store. Ravenous eyes poured over decadently decorated masks. The delicate painting of Pisa seemed to tinkle a knowing laugh as it merged between an optical illusion and a dual fantasy. The vacant eyes drew her in, the minute painting exuding an aroma which sang the part of a rich accordion harmony, the trickle of corked wine and the faint brush of a strangers lips. Obscurity was a dangerous dance.
Copyright: Victoria. O