Can You Dye Auburn Hair Golden Brown

ACQUARIUS STORY TELLER TOUR: SECOND STOP
No Man's Land: In front of a cup of tea.

He prepared a cup of tea to dark honey and lemon. Warmed the teapot with boiling water. Also warmed the cup. He waited patiently for the molecules of English earthenware from taking all the heat necessary to accommodate you, maintaining the temperature. He poured water into the teapot, where they lay, glossy leaves you just released a light rain. And waited. He waited, sitting in silence. That the leaves give off the aroma and fragrance. He waited until the leaves were allowed to go, relax, and permeated with water.
breathed in silence. Inhale, exhale. Like a leaf floating in the warm darkness of the teapot. She put the tea into the cup, like smoking a thin stream through the strainer. He approached the chair at the table, made the back straight, the eyes to the cup, full of dark liquid gold. Then he took the honey and slipped it up, stirring slowly. With tweezers, picks up the lemon slice from the dish, freshly cut grass, wet with juice and bright yellow light.
breaths and closed his eyes. Think of all the tea plantations. Immense, long stretches of tea plantations, lush and green. Places never visited, because he was afraid to take a plane and go. Flying. Watching from above and beyond his small living room. The books stacked. The lessons with the students distracted. Walks to the travel agency, which had never been: just one look at the window to check, if he had changed the posters with resorts to book now.
He took the cup to the handle worked fine. A little jewel fragile and elegant, white to light blue flowers. And drank. He took the cup, in which his whole family had been drinking. She quietly sipped the liquid gold. Thinking about everything. Speaking of everything. Except for tea plantations.
He drank in small sips slowly. The century-old cup of hot tea.
He felt the hot liquid aromatic, down, down, down, from his throat to the bowel, in a journey downhill, as the rapids. The nectar of the tea plantations.
Then he rose and small steps, take the arm holding the stick as a friend walked to the chair in the living room purple faded placed in front of the window, half open, looking towards the A4. The one that also leads to the sea. But not to the tea plantations.
He thought: "I wonder if someone will phone me tonight."