I choose a piece of shawl and my dirtiest suntans. "Fanny Brown is run away-scampered off with a Cornet of Horse I do love that little Minx, & hope She may be happy, tho' She has vexed me by this Exploit a little too.-Poor silly Cecchina! or F:B: as we used to call her.-I wish She had a good Whipping and 10,000 pounds."-Mrs. It's like a final chapter no one reads because the plot is over. I admire you, beloved, for the trap you've set. It is easy to be beautiful it is difficult to appear so.
I will my will, though I may become famous for a mysterious vacancy in that department, that greenhouse. How I am to become a legend, my dear? I've tried love, but that hides you in the bosom of another and I am always springing forth from it like the lotus-the ecstasy of always bursting forth! (but one must not be distracted by it!) or like a hyacinth, "to keep the filth of life away," yes, there, even in the heart, where the filth is pumped in and slanders and pollutes and determines. Serapion, I wrap myself in the robes of your whiteness which is like midnight in Dostoevsky. Heterosexuality! you are inexorably approaching. Now there is only one man I like to kiss when he is unshaven. And lately, so great has their anxiety become, I can spare myself little sleep. On the contrary, I am bored but it's my duty to be attentive, I am needed by things as the sky must be above the earth. If only i had grey, green, black, brown, yellow eyes I would stay at home and do something. It makes me restless and that makes me unhappy, but I cannot keep them still. Or again at something after it has given me up. My eyes are vague blue, like the sky, and change all the time they are indiscriminate but fleeting, entirely specific and disloyal, so that no one trusts me.
Do they know what they're missing? Uh huh. It is more important to affirm the least sincere the clouds get enough attention as it is and even they continue to pass. One need never leave the confines of New York to get all the greenery one wishes-I can't even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there's a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life. However, I have never clogged myself with the praises of pastoral life, nor with nostalgia for an innocent past of perverted acts in pastures. All I want is boundless love.Įven trees understand me! Good heavens, I lie under them, too, don't I? I'm just like a pile of leaves. Why should I share you? Why don't you get rid of someone else for a change?
We last updated this game in Octobut it was innitially added in June 23, 2019.Am I to become profligate as if I were a blonde? Or religious as if I were French?Įach time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous (and how the same names keep recurring on that interminable list!), but one of these days there'll be nothing left with which to venture forth.
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