Aristophanes, you took the words right out of my mouth. I love Anna Karina, and French New Wave films, fresh butter croissants consumed in bed with my lover, creamy cappuccino's in tiny stark white porcelain cups, Breton stripe boatnecks baring bronzed clavicles, pouty petal kisses in dimly lit alleyways, and most of all, a wine so darkly red, you would swear that it runs through your own fragile veins...
Comrade Von Pussycat
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