<span style="color: #40FFFF">[i]<span style="font-weight: bold">...And in so many places have my feet taken me From streets of cobble and dirt to the concrete and asphalt of the modern world. Tonight however felt different. There was a ... taste to the air and the warm summer breeze waifted the sound and scents of lovers dreams and loners tears. You could almost hear the echo of laughter and meloncholy of a hundred, no a thousand prvious nights just like the one that wrapped me in her arms right now.<br/><br/>   Death could feel the same way. Like the scene of a play with actors but shadows of the astists desires. Time could stop and start on such things. Time had.<br/><br/>   What brought me here? Why now? Had fate decided to through me another pitch to the groin or had she set me a tender morsil to intrigue my pallet for the night? For longer? For ever? <br/><br/>   Whatever it was it would be the asmeas it had been since farther back than he could imagine. Time was no longer relevant in his world. It was a casual mistress at best with little that couldn't dealt with in the series of days that ran one into another like the mile markers down some very long and dark road. I had time. I had far more time than I could care to count.<br/><br/>   So the busy street with its calamitous din and rebelious scents washed over him in a tide that told him that the "new" was about to happen. it reached out to him and flashed out from his green eyes ahrd and sharp in anticipation. His dark hair floating in the breeze, the sounds of the club called to him from just down the street. Yes, there. That is where the "new" will transpire. His appetite flared and his sense sharpened and the world about him came into sharp focus.<br/><br/>  At the door, the attendant, dressed in his best second-hand goodwill chino's and leather jacket, looked him in the eye and nodded an uncaring acceptance, while carefully sizing him up for a possible threat to the chaotic tranquility of his house of employment. The tinkle of glass on glass and the acrid aroma of smoke of several types washed over him with that wave of heat that can only come from too many people in to small a space doing far too much. You could almsot smell the desperation, fear, and hunger running over your skin as you entered. It was one of those places<br/><br/>   Into the club he strode, suprisingly not touching a soul as he made his way to the bar, almost as if they were not but unmoving ballards that needed only to stepped by. The bar, polished, old and stained was like so many of its ken, soaking up the liquid dreams of those coming to celebrate life's victoroes of celebrate life's defeats. That was the funny thing about life, it  didn't whether you one or lost. It just didn't care. You were and that was all. No fanfare from the univers when you born, no fanfare when you died. And Life, well, life just kept rollin' along. That is why I no longer put any stock in it. That is why I checked out some time ago......quite some time ago.<br/><br/>   The bartender slides over to me, "Whatcha haven?" <br/><br/>   "Booker's, water back and leave the bottle."<br/><br/>   His assesment in me changes as he sees the contents of my wallet as I placed hundreds on the bar. Money ahd a way of doing that, at least to most. I then place a twenty in the gutter and he smiles and I know that he will ensure that the service will be all that he can provide for.<br/><br/>  Now, lets us see what that bitch fate has tossed my way.</span>[/i</span>