Pier

The Sleeper

Paris, 2013

The air was scented heavily with Indian tea, its sharp bitterness carving a fine companion for the hostile atmosphere that was brewing in the smoking room.  The table lay scattered with used lemons, money and spent cigars. A silver tower provided some form of refinery to the savage and crude dealings that were being thrown around the table. Dotted around the shelves of the tower laid the remains of scones, a delightful dish to sweeten broken feelings and lost treasures. Strawberry jam dripped onto the black tablecloth, a stark contrast, two colours that were both loved and abhorred at the table.