Dozen, Ken, Nicholas, Steven and I commenced to imbibe in front of the TV.
TV fries one's brain.
But my eyes were gazing the patterns in the ivy.
The distance between the TV and I; in vain.
Unpasteurized sake is dank, especially when consumed fairly cold.
Dozen spilled the beer. . . Nicholas spilled a cup of sake. . got a little tipsy.
Grins on their faces, their eyes has enlightened.
Encountering the winged denizens of the past in the air; the gypsy
Unfinished story utters its price to pay
Frenzied one being oneself, fazed on its own way
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