The dawn calling
Arriving earlier, at the first light of dawn drifts across the page, the dawn calling of the beautiful young man with the louche disposition, here with nothing in hand, though truth be told nothing can be brought to the House of Masks, held erect while strutting up the lane to meet with the dawn appointment.
The beautiful louche man takes a moment to take in the surroundings as if saying goodbye to a street not to be seen again before passing through the open gate.
Welcome to the yard, beautiful louche man, welcome to the House of Masks.
