The point isn’t to try and guess your weight.
I’m not attracted to fun houses or mirrors that make me out to be living breathing crime noir.
I just want peace and quiet and a secret life I can call my own.
Relentless positive toxicity. Yes such a thing does exist in my mind’s eye, out among the
Pharaohs and High Priestesses.
I remember when you, me and Abraham Lincoln sought shelter from the invading storms.
How you and Honest Abe took to each other like two nitty-gritty guardians of truth often do when they cannot escape the moon and everyone is looking at them like they’re only wearing a top hat.
I cannot get Word to behave. The lines above are not meant to be indented and everything I try only seems to make the problem worse.