A lone trader arrives at Samarkand at dusk, carrying glass and metal from the west. The city meets him with everything he isn't carrying. Ten hours later, something of it still clings to the skin.
The Road to Samarkand
Tokyo Nights: Does Every Forever Begin with a Single Moment?
Two bodies lay tangled in the sheets as the night before turns to memory. The specter of sweet wine, sticky floors, and cigarette smoke linger like a sleep-eyed dream. Of the many questions d'Annam's Tokyo Nights poses, one stands above the rest: will it last?
The Emptiness of Seduction
Steam pours through a bathroom door on the Rive Droite. A woman crosses to her balcony — the Champs-Élysées below, a Monet on the wall, Baudelaire unopened on the table. Ex Nihilo's Fleur Narcotique is as beautiful and as composed as she is. The question the fragrance never quite answers is the same one she hasn't thought to ask yet. Full review at Vetiver & Verse.