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thursday, july  20th, 2023. 10.17pm                  at the dolby theater , with  roman konstenko. 

        From start to end the movement of the dancers told a deeply moving tale. They move like water transformed by music, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion. Though, their dance isn't simply movement, but the most honest form of communication. And isn't that how humans are, saying what we think we ought but showing how we truly feel in our art?

        After the play ends, Lale and the group of friends she had come with end up backstage. After finding out that Lale had yet to attend the ballet, a friend reached out to one of the dancers was able to get them last minute tickets for the group. Although the show was now over, there was still much of an organized chaos happening behind the scenes. Props were being taken down and secured safety, costumes were being steamed and put away as to not ruin the delicate fabric. After becoming caught up in all of the moving peices and being careful as to not get in anyone’s way, Lale now found herself looking around for the group she had come with. She props herself up onto tip toes to see if she could spot anyone she knew, but there was too much going on for her to concentrate properly. 

        Twisting lips to one side, Lale picks what looks to be the best direction to move in ─ where there is the least resistance and people to bump into. Thankfully, heading this way brings her to a random door and she hopes it’ll be a quiet place to make a quick call to her friend.

        ❝ Oh! ❞ Lale hadn’t been expecting anyone to be in the room and it’s clear by the way she bursts through the door and lets out a squeak of surprise when she finds someone already occupying the room. ❝ Hi, hello. ─ I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize someone was already in here. ❞ Lale turns to leave the room, but stops short, then looks back to the stranger with a tilted head, recognizing him as one of the main dancers from where she sat as part of the engaged audiance. She may have one good eye, but being observant to art was something that was never going to be taken away from Lale. ❝ You’re ─ um. You are .... ❞ Lale trails off, flipping through the playbook to find the familiar face that’s before her now. ❝ Roman! ❞ Eyes move back toward the man before her, a spark of admiration in her one good eye. ❝ Roman, you were brilliant tonight. Absolutely magical! ❞ She says, the compliment coming out with pure genuineness. 

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pink fluffly heart bag

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        It’s safe to assume that Lale can be dubbed as a regular when it comes to attending The Prayer Factory. Being the natural social butterfly that she is, Lale can walk in a room and start a conversation with anybody and at The Prayer Factory there was no shortage of socializing. After making it past the front doors and security, Lale had received a message from her friend explaining that they are officially not going to make it to their scheduled night out. As Lale makes her way further into the club, she’s attached to her phone ; trying to convince her friend to still make the trip and forget about their cheating partner. Unfortunately, it was to no avail, the brunette was now going solo tonight. Though, she knows deep down that she's going be completely fine on her own. Lale never has a problem creating her own fun, but she would have liked a friend by her side. Especially now that the molly was kicking in. Sighing, Lale comes to a stop and sends a few quick messages wishing her friend luck and to update her in the morning. Focusing in on the other brunette by the bar with a pout. ❝ My friend ditched me just now, Yasmin, ❞ Taking a seat beside her, she crossing one leg over the other and pulls thick hair to one side. Giving Yasmin a bright smile, trying to reel the other woman in she asks, ❝ Want to keep my some company or are you too busy for me? ❞

High heeled red bottoms tapped along the floor of The Prayer Factory, chocolate brown eyes peering over the crowds that filled the lounge, making her way over to the bar top. “Dirty Shirley with a bit of sparkling water,” she said, the smile never leaving her lips as she turned around and let herself release a breath. 24 hours straight. Sure, plug ins of sleep, 10 to 15 minutes stints that she had convinced herself were enough for her weary eyes, but still, the smile never faded. What did fade was her view of the crowd as she sipped her drink, a brow raising inquisitively. “I’m sorry, do you usually enjoy obstructing views? Because it looks like it’s your job right now. Usually excuse me and then continuing to walk is the norm.”

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ZIÓN MORENO CONTROL Z | 1.08 “Enemigo público”

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        Lale has been in Los Angele’s for five years and she has never been to the No Name pub until tonight. Mostly because she’s heard of its reputation ─ the broken pool tables speak for themselves ─ and because she’s had no ambition to go seeking out this establishment. As someone who is all for new experiences, Lale also knows when a setting just wasn’t going to be her scene. This pub is undoubtedly one of those places. But, here is she. Making her way to the bar counter to catch the attention of the waiter so she can order a dozen drinks. A few beers, a number of shots, more cocktails, and a gin sidecar for herself. She may not be liking it here, but that wasn’t going to stop her from having a good time. There will be an attempt. Suddenly, the eruption of the crowd catches Lale by surprise which causes her to curse under her breath. Her sight moves to the source of the excitement which is a slow-mo of a bloody knockout. A clear grimace spreads across her features. Then, the man beside her pipes up, and her good eye focuses on him. She can’t be sure he’s talking to her. Most likely not. Though, Lale is a social creature by nature and she takes his remark as an open invitation for conversation. ❝ Did you bet on that guy?  I hope you did. I feel like you'd be putting a lot of cash in your pocket after collecting at the end of the night. ❞

open to: all location: no name pub

As long as it had taken him to find this bar, it was worth it. He'd been looking for a place that wasn't rife with VIP sections and celebrities name-dropping for entry. He was still acclimating and far preferred the familiarity of dusty tabletops and sticky floors to anything else. He knocked back his beer, taking a long pull off it, his gaze glued on the fight playing on the screen across from him. The guy was getting pulverized, back up against the cage, getting pummeled until his guard broke. He watched blood go spraying, the commentator's voice getting drowned out by the bar's sudden eruption, as they watched the guy get KO'd, straight to the mat.

"Guy's a fuckin' beast." Garrett remarked as the match's highlights began playing onscreen. "But that fuckin' cross. You drop your guard like that, you're just fuckin' asking to get hit."

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        Lale was in the middle of taking a selfie in the bathroom mirror when the door opened with such an entrance that it makes her yelp a quick ' ooh! ' in surprise. After comprehending that the jump scare was not a threat and in fact, a woman simply trying to hide, Lale takes a sprawled hand that had been pressed against her chest and turns it into a gentle wave of dismissal. ❝ Don't worry about it. I thought I had locked it, but I must have forgotten. It's been a long night. When did this thing start? Four pm? That's way too early for an event like this. ❞ Lale says. Truthfully, she doesn't mind the sudden company. She's had so many experiences in her life that this is not even remotely close to anything she would find odd to happen. ❝ I get it. ─ Well, I don't, personally. I'm an extrovert. My older sister? Complete introvert. Which, I'm guessing you are too? ❞ All while saying this, Lale had been rummaging slender fingers through an adorned fluffy heart-shaped purse. With quick hands, a silver flask is set on the bathroom sink as an open invitation. ❝ For the nerves. Or, whatever it is your feeling. I don't want to assume ─ And it's just gin, I swear. ❞ The artist promises with an impish wink. The woman didn't have to take it if she didn't want it. There was no pressure on Lale's part. In fact, she goes and continues to fluff out waves of hair, concentrating on her photo.

plot: the good ol classic thing of two people hiding at the same place coincidentally to momentarily hide from an event/party/gathering

“oh! wow sorry– i didn’t think anyone would be here,” an apology is quick to leave her when she all but barges in on the other, making quite a loud entrance as the door slams open, and then shut behind her. “i’m afraid you’d have to bear with me here for a while, it’s been too much small talk for me out there.”

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(  𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵.  ) ,

𝐢.    biography.   𝐢𝐢.   statistics.   𝐢𝐢𝐢.   pinterest.

it’s a dog-eat-dog world, and LALE SENOL has to learn how to bare their teeth without letting the cameras flashes catch anything other than a smile. with a face like AYCA AYSIN TURAN, the world wants nothing from HER except all that SHE has to offer. LALA has had FIVE YEARS in town to learn the rules of living it up on top. but at just THIRTY-THREE, will they try to make peace with the golden scale that’ll try to tell them their heart is in the right place or fight for what they want? with ROSE RASPBERRY ECLAIRS, BORROWING A KISS & GIVING IT BACK, AND GIVING TO EVEN THE MOST UNDERSERVED to make up their reputation, let’s hope the ARTIST / GLASSBLOWER won’t look for the saints in the city of angels to help them. there’s nothing holy about hollywood.

name: lale sevim nese senol. age: thrity-three. time in hollywood: five years. occupation: artist / glassblower. positive traits: visionary & optimistic & whimsical. negative traits: bemused & emotional & escapist habbits.

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“I can see your nipples through your shirt” first of all stop being ungrateful.

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― Andrei Tarkovsky, from Sculpting in Time

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AYÇA AYŞIN TURAN ADA MASALI | 15. BÖLÜM