Book: The final

Movement warmth spread throughout her body, she arched her hands, as if trying to weave them into the gold mesh candle-lights; raised palm, as if intoxicated; slip, almost physically feeling the unearthly cool and white chrysanthemums. Freely and easily and at the same time, concentrated, chaste ecstasy, she began the dance of the white Lotus. She was passionate about Egyptian rigorous plasticity and sensuality of the Indian, until she suddenly did not seem that the room loses its contours in the dark and becomes a dark lake, which brightens a very pale face, like a white Lotus flower in the night...