40 days of Sânziene
My eyes sink in it and I disappear into his words. Can’t lift my eyes. Can’t hold onto any self sense… and I stand like a stone. Like a vanished stone, but still one. Weightless, netherless.
NOLA hedonism
… Just sexdump that girl.
And go for the one that would stab you while you lean your damn brains back in confidence. Full thrust. Gut or chest you red:
“I’ll give you lust mofo!”
Eggs & Sausage
when they invade you back from “a quick one” and the verbalatio debris is more than just background noise. Casual tradefloor entertainment. You get to feel that, and taste the naughtiness.
Musicma way! fathers and sons.
Then Gershwin. Yesssss! – the childhood watermark of my … pre-teens 12-15 years of age. My first encounters with jazz. And that filmic pace of his music, the scenes I would see in it, the contest of life, falling innocently over and cruising
vintim 