Way back amongst the heather, upon a sparse and lonely moor, stands a solitary and humble abode, its door cracked slightly ajar.
As wick and intense as Lala Palooza pressed from ultra-ripe Kordia cherries, darker than fresh ink made from smashed black pluots, and as brightly jammy as vanilla scented blackberries topped with green and pink peppercorns.
Silver light reflects off rain-slicked cobbles, smooth as sea serpent scales seen through the thick grey-blue fog, opaque and mysterious, winding down sinuous streets and alleys, ultimately opening onto the rough-hewn beams of wooden docks jutting out into the bay.
The sun slowly starts its set above the painted desert, splashing multitudinous colors as if from a giant brush, stroked in a sinuous motion across the raw and dangerous American West.
Sansa Stark provocatively draped in turmeric dusted sunflowers swaying in the sun, her radiant hue is all about golden honey.
This brooding suit of lights will beguile you with a swaying muleta of dark garnet, ruby and blue-hued mahogany scented with Parma violets dipped in chocolate, blood orange peel, iodine rubbed leather, musk, and all fully integrated within a panoply of sun-herbs laced with pungent black pepper.