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About my degenerated pleasures

A

Very often I read the newspapers. And then you vibrate on with scriblings about people who have committed the ‘perfect crime’. Costly reading food, that. You just have to forgive me, every now and then life passes me by a bit boring and predictable. Deep inside me a rock chick has been lost. Life is sometimes a bit stale when you only read about the excesses of those improperly boring...

Routine

R

‘I hate those ruts,’ I shout, as I beat away a mosquito. A mosquito, in the middle of winter, but hey, they too seek warmth. Even though they don’t know what to do with this abandoned heavenly body. It smokes, it drinks. Sometimes much, usually less. I think that’s why they spontaneously forget where to prick me. Anyway, I wanted to talk about ruts specifically. We had lunch in a warm brown café...

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