**Photo 35mm This opium den was different from all the others. It was in the home of an eccentric guy, a Japanese fortune teller, who had made his smoking space a place where you felt good. The atmosphere was more relaxed, less sophisticated than other smoke shops. The walls were painted with dark colors like gray and black, but dotted with a few psychedelic posters. Cushions were scattered here and there in different bright colors. Rice paper curtains hid the small corners for more privacy. The light was subdued thanks to colored lamps, different bulbs from each other, arranged in a nonchalant way in the space. The objects were more heterogeneous, a sort of bric-a-brac of things of all kinds. Stuffed animal heads, trinkets of all kinds, string lights, colorful rugs, horror movie posters. The atmosphere was less silent, more cheerful. Music could be heard, often rock or pop, and sometimes even the laughter of customers who were there to have a little smoke. The smokehouse was mostly there for people to relax, to let themselves go. The owner was pretty cool, no nonsense, and did everything to make people feel good. In short, it was a place where you could come to relax, without getting caught up in a sophisticated decor or too serious an atmosphere. It was the kind of place where you could relax, let yourself go, and just enjoy a moment of pleasant in all simplicity. --v 5 --ar 2:1** - Image #4 <@1091300228239478797>
Photo 35mm This opium den was different from all the others. It was in the home of an eccentric guy, a Japanese fortune teller, who had made his smoking space a place where you felt good. The atmosphere was more relaxed, less sophisticated than other smoke shops. The walls were painted with dark colors like gray and black, but dotted with a few psychedelic posters. Cushions were scattered here and there in different bright colors. Rice paper curtains hid the small corners for more privacy. The light was subdued thanks to colored lamps, different bulbs from each other, arranged in a nonchalant way in the space. The objects were more heterogeneous, a sort of bricabrac of things of all kinds. Stuffed animal heads, trinkets of all kinds, string lights, colorful rugs, horror movie posters. The atmosphere was less silent, more cheerful. Music could be heard, often rock or pop, and sometimes even the laughter of customers who were there to have a little smoke. The smokehouse was mostly there for people to relax, to let themselves go. The owner was pretty cool, no nonsense, and did everything to make people feel good. In short, it was a place where you could come to relax, without getting caught up in a sophisticated decor or too serious an atmosphere. It was the kind of place where you could relax, let yourself go, and just enjoy a moment of pleasant in all simplicity.