The Girl of Freo.

You see her sitting in the bar when you enter the room, the sound coming from the speakers remind of times well spent and she smiles as you walk on by. You are rolling a cigarette and she is drinking red drinks, she follows you out the back and you are happy to be there. Sitting across the table are different strangers with multicutural backgrounds, talking about buying mau in different countries and smoking pipes of different sizes. The Girl of Freo sits close to you, she takes a sip of her drink as you are rolling her a J, she smiles once again and talks about moving, travelling and partying. There is an instant connection, it is there like air, just hovering around you.

As she takes the first toke the spaces between her eyes grows wider, you can really see the color of her eyes. They are green with a hint of blue flashes, and when they close again and again, slower and slower, she passes the J. She asks you where you're from and what you were doing, it's not really that interesting nor relevant, cause you know where this conversation is going. By the end of the J, her hair has been raised to new hights, like whirlwind blowing through a sleepy countryside, the golden locks are climbing down her shoulders. It is chaos personafied.

Done, smoked, deaf, you try to stand up. The music is loud and you realize that you were too drunk to have smoked that J, it is a mistake often done when too exited. With a fear of passing out, you find your way home, you climb into bed, not your bed, but A bed...