Fallen Angels

It's done. I'm completely sold on the Chungking lore. Inject my veins right now with pineapple juice, Marlboro ashes and neon lights. Put a Ruud Gullit wig on my head and let me brawl over a Mahjong table in the sweatiest, gloomiest late-night diner. Or serve me some single malt on the rocks in a rather empty hazy laid-back nightclub and let me hide my yearning eyes under my perfectly uneven bangs. Hope rain will never stop too, Blondie..