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