by Sebatinsky
I puff, then toss my cigarette away unfinished.
"Where will we go, now?" she asked.
"The moon. The sun! Some magical singularity beyond where any soul has been - baby, we can go anywhere, we can do anything. It's gonna be a hell of a trip, and you're just the pan-dimensional being I want by my side."
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Style Parody: Robert Gryfft
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1 comment:
Touche, sir. Touche.
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