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angiex
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basement
brad pitt says you should never pick a fight in a basement in that tennessee accent and the disturbing moustache i want that cookie in the basement moist and damp not crispy as it should be crispy like diane kruger's golden blond hair fixed in place with hairspray in that movie that wonderful movie inglourious basterds.
believer
when i see his face i'm a believer although i have short term memory loss for the instant the planes of his face shine my hero gives me faith
willow
willowy bodies bend with grace skin gliding over joints muscles bone lean mean sleek self reliant excess is excess
flannel
—"my back hurts me" —"i don't particularly care" —"i like your flannel shirt" —"thanks" —"can i wear it" —"no"
sunlight
let it touch your nose your eyelids your lips soak into your ears the backs of your hands and concentrate, focus every fibre
walk
the old boy pontificated as he walked—more like puffed—round and round the weary yellow dog that was tied to the tree.
buildings
a building can be beautiful, high and lofty as though it held the sky, or low and discreet, able to hold warmth and happiness.
tale
there was an old piece of dduk. it had seen its glory days of soft puffy sweetness, melt-in-your-mouth goodness, but now it was confined to the unflinching cold of the freezer.
patience
i have unlimited patience today. if you feel like picking a fight with me, you bulls of the world, i feel as though you could try to run through me but i will merely stretch infinitely around you—a cobweb.
coaster
a coaster is silly. set your cups DOWN ping down plunge down slam down on your priceless mahogany tables because scars are good, scars are life.