Sans Liege "XI/XII/XIII Transcendentalist" Red N.V.

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She smuggled the Djarums all the way here. What planet was this again? Is it even charted? and here we are smoking impossibly fresh Djarums and unpacking treasures from home: chocolate covered cherries, elderflower liqueur, black licorice, soft maple candies, a blood orange. The dual suns are setting, the night will be steep. We kindle a primitive fire from the sprigs and branches lying around. The scent is like an incense factory up in flames: Juniper berry, cinnamon bark, bergamot, nag champa and cherry hookah smoke. She is telling old jokes while the splintered ship smolders silently and the last light fades from the horizon.

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