«Unless I write something, anything, good, indifferent or trashy, every day, I feel ill.» W. H. AUDEN & «Thanking the public, I must decline/ A peep through my window, if folk prefer/ But, please, you, no foot over threshold of mine» House, Robert Browning, 1874
At noo today, the 5th, I found Elisa in bed. I got in, fine thighs, but a face that looks stupid and lives up to its promise: twenty four livres.
posted by para lá de bagdade @ 20:25
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