disturbing psychology

As they sipped tea laced with a dash of peppermint oil, sprinkled with fragrant rose buds that floated in darks red patches speckled over their Chai, they recalled stories of hot-air balloons and French race-cars washed in an auburn glow that shone like dancing fireflies by an octogonal garden. "More tea, Roger?" a mustached man vested in a tartan suit with a whitish pallour inquires with an eyebrow elegantly raised up in a furry arc over glassy irises. In the distance, a carnival whirred like clockwork, draped by an extravagant taupe covering with pictures of pear-picking in the forest in Autumn. Bronzed leaves floated in the air, transparently singing an empty tune with the breeze; gentle, unforceful harmonies intertwined with the frantic, soul-searching shrills of a nearby jackdaw to form the sounds of a passing season that blended with the orange glow of the evening's warmth.

And a few hours later, they reached the quaintish village that sparkled with the chink of champagne flutes as their hands lay supine on winter fleece embracing a mahogany chest. "Oh the stars evoke feelings of piquancy tonight," a gypsy girl mentions with a flash of off-white teeth from the front of the travelling caravan. Yellow, blue, red stripes raced around a tangerine canvas beside a flickering kerosene lantern, casting long exaggerated shadows that moved with inaudible creaks over the panels by the side. Yes, the moon in her wonderful luminance clothed the lines of the earth with a cloth of surreal lighting framed by the harshness of nearby apple orchards and pine forests.