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Un. The Russian boy with whom I was obsessed last year owns (a) an Arsenal jacket; (b) a Chelsea jacket. I don't get it.

Deux. There are leaves all over the footpaths, tumbling cream and orange and red, making me slip as I walk. Sydney at present is brown and autumnal. But it still smells like spring.

Trois. I don't understand it when people say ( Read more... )