Like a single frame from a film, a moment frozen in time, extracted from 24 frames of cinéma vérité per second.
A moment in one shot which encapsulates the dynamics of the three strangers who had met up and had found privacy in the heart of the city; the crowd whisked by as though in timelapse as they sat in the corner they had claimed.
One shot that captures precisely what had transpired in the 6 hours they spent at the coffee place; two hands barely touching, the fingertips lightly grazing, much like their conversation and the exchanging of their thoughts.
The lone hand, resting on the one in the middle of the shot, was solitary most of the time during which the exchange between the other two took place. And also, a preamble for what was to come later in the night, when solace was both given and taken without words and without touch.
And the ashtray – full of stubbed cigarette butts, their collective smell almost rancid – reinforcing the passing of the long night. A visual suggestion of post-coital quiet and calm.
A threesome. Of two plus one.
Then it was one on one.
34, male and very Cancerian. Often irascible, even if he is prescient to his emotions. Lives for the resonance of beautiful passages, cinematic magic and aural bliss. Dabbles in 
I love tis pic..
i like the rings.
heh*
I like the hand on the right. epitomy of feminine grace.
A picture that sums up the evening, nice :)
A sensual choice of words that conclude the whole experience too, nice.
And sorry biatch, i ain’t sharing it :P
Love,
epitome of -cough- feminine grace(hand only)
pic looks great!