Velvet Underground pt. 1

In the lounge bounded by velvet ropes, the life and soul of every person there can be felt. Once the music kicks in with its jiving tempo and piercing brass, one can’t help but wonder, is life so bad. I for one, felt quite grand. Vladimir entered the room clad with entourage of big bulky men. They lumber behind him all the while a string bass plucks wild invigorating rhythms. He reaches me at the bar and extends his arm. The smell of Italy invades my nose. Whether his class and gracefulness are genuine, I can’t tell. But I buy into it. I shake his hand and introductions are made. His accent pokes at me through his gentleman smile. We leave the lounge to begin our business.

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