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December 2, 2020
I have a whirlwind face, not decorated the way people want to invest in when Coca Cola stocks start going down and Betty Page dolls become illegal. It's inscrutable how my lineaments delineate nothing recognizable to the coffee house crowds. I suppose I should be thankful or grateful or motivated to shop for fresh fish on the docks where the stories are as thick as the sludge on the high water walls no one trusts, nor should, being designed by uneducated rich kids from Antartica. This is way the world will never end, as prescribed by dead Enron sales reps.