Opportunity knocks at my front door; I don’t feel like answering. Another moment is gone and fades away becoming a distant memory. Silent nights conjure up the spirits of old memories for another haunting experience. They usually embody the form of a woman: a most intriguing creature still unknown to the mind of mortal men. I’ve had timeless encounters with different women during my overseas travels. Women of different ethnicities, personalities, and curves hypnotized me under their influence: it’s an intoxicating experience numbing all my senses. Majority of these women are products of the night that remain hidden from the rest of society. The reason is society would mark them sluts, harlots, or whores. Truth is you can’t judge a book by its cover. In the grimy and gritty gutters, I’ve met intriguing women whose souls burn with an intense flame. They don’t suffer from the put-ons and false faces shown in high society. No obscure poses. No deceitful tongues. It’s the night that brings out these type of women. Usually, the muck of the nightlife brings out false identities but beyond the muck lies diamonds in the rough. It’s the flaws of a woman that make them who they are. Women who let their loose inhibitions flow out them symbolize raw passion. Our culture tends to demand the perfect human: a test tube specimen conditioned for faultless existence. Everyone drags along baggage because we were born sick out our mother’s womb. So, here’s to the imperfect woman with scars and all. Here’s to her flaws, issues, and emotions. I’m forced to suffer with the dilemma of falling in love with these bewitching ladies just by opening my eyes. I hate having these feelings, yet I can’t let it go. You can quote me on it, and I’ll call you a liar.