I just want to pour my soul out on someone and not have to worry about the mess I’ve made.
he’ll say “are you married?” we’ll say “wow those are pretty invasive questions for a snowman”
No artist tolerates reality.
No but I can just imagine a person bursting through the door screaming “I NEED YOUR HELP. IT’S A NINE” and everyone in the shop stops and all collectively goes “Oh shit” and the florists start working frantically while the man/woman just stands there looking scared while the other customers are trying to figure out what they did.
Majestic Motherfucking Creatures we are.
This is sensational
All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that’s the tragedy of living.
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