Paste-1184570511:v:use_geshi-1:v:type-php

[Guest]

Friday night
Copyright © Mystery, 2002. All rights reserved.

The night is closing by. The sun is hiding behind a fainting mirror of orange, yellow, white and red rays; all these shades are fading into the uncompromising darkness that looms under the hood of stars and the face of the moon.

I stroll through the roads of the city, filled with youthful love, dark red dresses, black manly shirts and the “hunt” of the Friday night. I love the mysteries that nights like this discretely present to the casual but attentive wanderer that’s me. The wet smell of the air is so distinctive you cannot mistake it for anything else: it’s the smell of Tirana in the evening, right after a short and cleansing rain. Never have I sensed this same smell in other Albanian and European cities I’ve been.

Though I’m strolling by myself, I am not alone, for you are within my heart and memories, and I feel you right beside my right breast. Time after time, you grasp my hands and arms slowly and smile back at me, as I smilingly look back into your luscious eyes, filled with sensations and desires only such nights can bring forth… as I sense the thinness of your evening dress, the softness of your skin, your heartbeats and the warmth of your body approaching mine with every step of our adventure in this Friday night.

[Guest]

Friday night
Copyright © Mystery, 2002. All rights reserved.

The night is closing by. The sun is hiding behind a fainting mirror of orange, yellow, white and red rays; all these shades are fading into the uncompromising darkness that looms under the hood of stars and the face of the moon.

I stroll through the roads of the city, filled with youthful love, dark red dresses, black manly shirts and the “hunt” of the Friday night. I love the mysteries that nights like this discretely present to the casual but attentive wanderer that’s me. The wet smell of the air is so distinctive you cannot mistake it for anything else: it’s the smell of Tirana in the evening, right after a short and cleansing rain. Never have I sensed this same smell in other Albanian and European cities I’ve been.

Though I’m strolling by myself, I am not alone, for you are within my heart and memories, and I feel you right beside my right breast. Time after time, you grasp my hands and arms slowly and smile back at me, as I smilingly look back into your luscious eyes, filled with sensations and desires only such nights can bring forth… as I sense the thinness of your evening dress, the softness of your skin, your heartbeats and the warmth of your body approaching mine with every step of our adventure in this Friday night.

[Guest]

Just delete it. :P