Some truths

I hate that movies only ever portray drug dens as utterly disgusting filthy little holes with scabbed leprosy kissed people when in fact they can also be sun drenched, the kind that is infused with copper hued glaze filtering sweetly through a primrose fabric laying sepia over clean floors in a room tainted with the fading scent of cherry blossoms and mild floating redolence of osmanthum radiating among beautiful people listening to music.