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kindapunchdrunk's Journal

Pietasting Sally
7 April
External Services:
"what the hell is this abby normal shit" --goldfinger

The front door squeaked open slowly. The smoke reacted to the visitor, finding its way up and out the door, rising into the bleak night sky. I could feel the draft creeping, cutting in with the intimacy held with comfort. The sounds of the street followed the new face until deadened by the closing door. Yes, the world was still out there.
'salad days' - charles romalotti