mockvia nazarenum

azavat mattaram

nishevika mazzakvazzareth

nishevika monsissata

gaavabeth...

Into every life some pleasure must fall. In this room of plush couches and sprawling pleasures, the fine smell of sweat expended gleefully hangs in the lighter spots of the smell of fine cooking, thick sweet herbal smoke, a dark and churning opiate smell, a flat abstraction. Clothes are casually flung to corners. The inexplicable whispering breathing speech of the demons flutters through the air. This is the room of celebration, of debauchery. As demons say, 'life belongs to its liver.'