He is a sophisticated man. Every morning his mirror
smiles at him. His white hair and beard are perfectly coiffed. Each hair is
examined, snipped, combed, and smiled upon.
He is a sophisticated man. His library is the envy
of friends. The patina on the one hundred fifty year old wood is an intoxicant
to the eye. Soft light is cast by Tiffany lamps and solid brass wall sconces. His
books line one wall. He looks upon them often and when he does he smiles. His
smile reacts as his eyes fall upon his first editions of Hawthorne and Webster.
The great works of literature speak softly to visitors that here lives a
sophisticated man.
He is a sophisticated man. His leather chair is one
of the finest. Hand crafted and covered in Romanza Leather it is exquisite in
every detail, the seen and experienced. The brass buttons at the top of each
arm bear the marks of his fingers over long years. The trained eye can see the
faint color change in the leather where his elbows have rested as he enjoyed
his pipe and brandy.
He is a sophisticated man. To the left of his chair,
his Gillow’s Pembroke Table is within easy reach. His pipe and pouch rest within
an Ebony bowl, placed exactly at the far left end of the table, though still in
reach. The decanter of Courvoisier brandy rest upon his 16th century
silver server. The snifter sits next to the decanter, with her opening covered
with appropriate sized linen.
He is a sophisticated man. But, every morning his mirror
is deceived. The visage of the perfectly groomed man fails to reveal his
uninhabited soul. During the day he rests within the safety and luxury of the finest leather
on his chair. His lips have enjoyed his fine brandy. The scent of expensive
pipe tobacco lingers long into the night. He dozes off in his self quarantined cell.
He is a sophisticated man. He reaches into the
drawer of his table and rests his manicured fingers on the cold stainless
steel.
He Was a Sophisticated Man.
It's poetic and induces self searching thoughts.
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