My fortress of solitude
I go there with a bitterness in my mouth, a hollowness of spirit, a weakness of constitution. Montreal; with your strange sofas I wake up on, your fluffy omlettes with weird ingredients, your deep glasses of wine and candle light and cigarette smoke and your fluid definitions of morality.Things look like they were filmed on 8mm...romantic, distant, scattered and hazy.
posted by El Chupacabra @ 3:46 PM
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