Ek somoy amar lingota sokto hoye monumenter moto soja hoye dariye jai, er por mami taratari sari blause khule amar bed er opor uthe komorer dui pase d...i paye hantu gere bose amar lingoi mukh lagiye chuse chuse lingota k pichhil korar chesta kore mamir choson kheye lingo ta lal lohar moto fuste thake.Ami nisas bondho kore suye thaki, bujhte dii na j ami jege achi.Er por sayar fitei tan diye khule golar upor diye goliye tabile er opor rakhe, puro naked hoye gude hat diye jore jore ghoste thake.. So much that I may never wear anything else again."I did notice the others looking at me in bug eyes as I sat down, but at that moment I didn't care.That little bare talk went on for another thirty minutes and I managed to learn a little bit more about some of them then I really wanted to.Luckily for me, we all had to move out of the room because the next speaker needed to setup.After we both where back out in the vender area, one of the naked twenty something girls stopped me as I listening to. The problem was that despite the fact that she had an ID stating she was eighteen, she looked even younger than her actual age. Still, she was willing to give it a shot, and made her way to a place called Madam Woo's House of Ill Repute.The name was a joke, of course. The woman who ran the brothel interviewed for the job just because she'd liked the name -- then she'd taken it as her stage name. Jenna 'Woo', the woman who operated the place, was a smart businesswoman who ran a tight ship. Her. Too rapidly to do justice to this alcoholic treasure. Then I clomped back to the chair.I knew what I must do. I picked up the gun from the table, put it up to my temple, and pulled the trigger.Images of my life started to come to me. Little snippets of important events. The good times, the bad times, the sad times, the glad times. They all came to me again. Not like an image. No, not like that at all. Too clear. Too poignant.It was as if I was living them again briefly. I could feel my lips.