Parentheses, oysters, nudes, drinking in the afternoon, men in shirts, the taste of money, train stations, counting with coffee spoons, sun through blinds, blood and salt and hormones and oxytocin and spittle and oil, flowers for free, dinner parties, symmetry, maths, suffering and love and the thrill, of under me you so quite new.
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Oh god, please don't let me leave Paris. However much I love home, and York, I can't bear to leave this city. The only thing drawing me back is my friends. Sometimes I think I would dismiss my degree and one day, just stay here... Wouldn't that be the most insane, poverty-stricken, stupid and wonderful liberation?
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