It's said that quiet, alone time is the best for personal growth. Where the hurry and jarring sights and sounds of the everyday have no fuel. No toxic leak to have shields up in defense, and defiance. Because who really wants to let all that bullshit in, into the sanctuary of the inner self. It becomes a whip that shies peace the fuck on. And as it gallops on down the road of harsh reality, you get dragged along. A foot stuck in the saddle, one that was never worn in too good. Or too deep, as the jagged edges of life in general poked and prodded at your ass to keep moving.

So when these quieter moments arise, and they do if you look for them, it's best to take them with both hands. In Joe Adonis' case, both were wrapped around a glass of tequila. He was cradling with, like a newborn. Appreciating the golden hue within the crystal, as the fire raged in the background. The crackling sound of broken bits of furniture being engulfed, and the light smell of flesh being seared, made for an interesting background to his love of a good drop of whatever worked.

Joe's quiet, alone time was less about the other bodies somewhat present and more about the space for him to sink into. That inner void where you could transcend the moment and touch something deeper, that the everyday hustle kept dragging you away from. At moments, Joe would think the need to be busy and fill the gaps became kind of like a game unto itself. What could he do to feel like he wasn't not doing something. His automatic thoughts feeling a ways ahead of the present, trying to latch onto something, anything.

And that's when moments like these here, as he lay on the bonnet of the yellow taxi, his back against the windscreen, made the most sense. They cut through it all. Got to the core of what it was, or wasn't. They put the brakes on hold so the lingering pause could fester into a delightful reassuring moment of fuck yes. And as he raised the glass to his lips to take a sip, it dawned on him.

His mind was open. Receptive. Ready to be a vehicle for something more. Insights were had in moments like these. Where things just popped in and popped out at their own leisure. Ideas came and went. Some made more sense than others. But they all had the distinct feeling of something more than just a reactive thought. They had life to them. The hairs that stood up on the back of the neck, or the shiver down the spine, they spoke of that energy.

An idea edged its way in, and just as the liquid gold hit his taste buds. The initial kick reminded him he was alive, before the smooth finish gave rise to the need for another. His eyes reflected the intense roar of the growing flame, which also seemed to jump into the glass and play on the liquor. One more to his lips and back went his head as the rest was sucked in. A mixture of emotions came with the expression that followed, hinting at the kick and the silky happy ending.

Joe would let the thoughts percolate further before acting on them. For now, he would continue to enjoy the aftermath of a deal gone right. Wrong for the meat suits getting grilled, but for Joe, it went exactly as was planned. As he kept his sight of the flickering and dancing bonfire, he tossed the empty glass off to the side and placed his hands behind his head. Fiery Bliss.