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Finally s'regarde well when it has nothing very logical. You stay a chick, you're just the stick. A chick yeah, a real thing. It is the adventure ahead and count the most absurd that ever crossed, and go have even forgotten how to laugh. I mean, is not nothing to be got there. You've all wanted to read everything, do you have swallowed snakes literary, always under cover, make your life a cloak of fiction. Ca you got into, I mean, at c haud course you got into it on the roads and winters, you're pretty subtracted doubts, dripping, to disgust, to catch moods -all. You've had crossed the seas and shipwrecks, you're all inclusive you think of the ages. But will knowledge. If the craziest, is not when you get a quick concealer in the morning. If the craziest, is not having too many clothes in your closets, the craziest, is not to have empty account but you pay a good bar, I mean not to laugh , no no, a chocolate.
Va whether the craziest, is not to look at yourself in the mirror five times per hour I mean. Sex before love, before blogging books, foundation, first and foremost. After all I thought you got after you got all that I lived, and after all what you've wanted, it's there, your comedy surreal it is there, your great masquerade: have you done everything to not get there, and it was many things to get there. You are one of them: the school of life is in the same futile path, it led thee by the nose powdered.
Marginal and autonomous, it's funny, I like your scara background, like your eyes, like butter, when you cling to the charming apple. But then resume a ladle of sentimentality, I mean, you love it, indigestion. Who knows if it is not there, your great epic, funny in your accumulated on your shelves and your mp3 super, supermarkets, your bucket under the sink, your weekend fat. Now he cries when you leave your umbrella.
You're all fucking it raw, and is wallowing in your life paper, you disputed any of your attitude lived.
Finally. J'dis that, j'dis nothing.
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Va whether the craziest, is not to look at yourself in the mirror five times per hour I mean. Sex before love, before blogging books, foundation, first and foremost. After all I thought you got after you got all that I lived, and after all what you've wanted, it's there, your comedy surreal it is there, your great masquerade: have you done everything to not get there, and it was many things to get there. You are one of them: the school of life is in the same futile path, it led thee by the nose powdered.
Marginal and autonomous, it's funny, I like your scara background, like your eyes, like butter, when you cling to the charming apple. But then resume a ladle of sentimentality, I mean, you love it, indigestion. Who knows if it is not there, your great epic, funny in your accumulated on your shelves and your mp3 super, supermarkets, your bucket under the sink, your weekend fat. Now he cries when you leave your umbrella.
You're all fucking it raw, and is wallowing in your life paper, you disputed any of your attitude lived.
Finally. J'dis that, j'dis nothing.
pix: stay in Paris (installation Annette Messager)
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