Made of fire. Part six

Violet

Ten years before a huge deluge of events
Things would look
Squeaky-clean,
Glamorous.

Amorous,
Morose,
Rose,
OS,

IQOS?

In other words,
It was all about trade,
Expansion,
Success.

She was doing her best to convince the pianist at a restaurant
To play Hellenic and Serbian songs.

He was playing as hard as he could
New games on his PS4,
And time was ruthless.

They underestimated their happiness,
The opulent, fulfilled days,
Safe and careless nights...
She would march and stroll singing opera snippets
Although she was always sober,
Too relaxed,
Too laid-back,
As if sins and crimes didn't exist.

He would take a violet marker
And leave traces
On old grey walls,
Looking for strange folks before it became
Mainstream.

A scent of aging.
A scent of violet velvet.
Old perfumes by Salvatore Ferragamo.

A scent of leather.
A scent of blueberry coffee.

Mist.

Day six.