Norman attempted to break more ice, “Professor Langenberg, it’s your time, you can talk to me about anything.” So Professor Langenberg spoke of the unspeakable, “Manny, when are you preparing to graduate?”

Bored Norman took a moment, “To be honest I’m unsure, perhaps in and about another year.”

Norman opened his eyes and wondered, considering what? Go read about Flemish Renaissance? So he replied, “Elsje you should know it, people like us live by counting days.”

“That’s inopportune.” That’s insolent. “I brought you a gift.” 

“…it was supposed to begin as a joke, some wanted to concentrate the trafficked people and collected souls onto an island, in turn allocating for them physical bodies and reagents of philosopher’s stone. The other said you know what’s sillier? Stop the lads’ watches.”

It seemed Scorpio liked to say a lot more about this, but he refrained. “Hears like two of them are toying with the idea of playing god (playing with gods).” Igor spilled out.

“You play god, I play god.” Scorpio commented nonchalantly.

He went in, and soon discovered the items in questions were constant dialogues between modernism and the hypermodern, he knew little about this, but was glad there are free wines. 

The work is a private photo, but for some reason more than others adopted a tilt-shift light. “Is this a pseudo-documentary about the artists, or a pseudo-artist’s real documentary? 

“I think busybody mixed the ideation between Fate and desire.” 

In the front of the house of Café Adorée stood a boring young man. Boy to be precise. His pretty face hung a kind of nondescript tired and languid sadness, he wore worn cloth in the shade of brownish green, kept a dilapidated bag, between his well-manicured hands lies a cigarette in which he sometimes gives a drag. His face and his fashionable hair garnered a lot of attention. 

Can mix dusk and dawn, can’t separate apart dusk and dawn, it looked like today Northern won’t be here.