Luxor, Lesbos, Tiruchendur... Ploy grew thoughtful as she sipped her steamy double roast Arabica. "He is fixing on sand and sea again. It scares me a little. Somehow, I just don't see him making a comeback. Thailand was just a holiday for Kavi."
"Our roving archangel again?" Bala remarked. "Why worry?"
"I'm not!... Down deep I'm sure he's in control. As Matsuo Basho centuries before him, Kavi is committed to the sotto voce set-up where the wandering hero drops dead on the highway."
Jeanna didn't feel as assured as his lover; but then, what could he know – having never met Kavi – nor spoken to the man on the telephone. Photographs and film clips were all he had ever seen...
But enough of our embodiment of rare ambiguity. That ambient new age thinking music had once again imbued their cozy apartments, even long past their tantric lovemaking. Bala watched, astounded as she stood near the window, all but naked in the sheerest of cottons: the painful severity of puissance and beauty as revealed in the sorceress's sacral dimples. She clung to the window frame and lowered her gaze to the dawn-lit streets of the small Flemish city, her eyes coursing slowly the length of the moat to the two arcing bridges that crossed to the castle.