(no subject)
I found this totally sweet book in English today in the used bookstore in the basement of this shop in front of the train station.
"TENNIS and the Meaning of Life: A Literary Anthology of the Game."
My cold's a bit better, but I'm really uninspired with lyrics right now so you guys will have to do with missing my voice serenading you at the train station for a little while longer.
Still wanted: Ponta.
Thanks for the stuff for Karupin. I don't have any means to repay you but I'll come up with something.
Losing tennis amputated my heart. It's no longer there, but due to some phantom pain I can still feel it throb.
Maybe reading this book makes me both a sadist and a masochist. Or I'm just torturing myself for no good reason.
"TENNIS and the Meaning of Life: A Literary Anthology of the Game."
My cold's a bit better, but I'm really uninspired with lyrics right now so you guys will have to do with missing my voice serenading you at the train station for a little while longer.
Still wanted: Ponta.
Thanks for the stuff for Karupin. I don't have any means to repay you but I'll come up with something.
Losing tennis amputated my heart. It's no longer there, but due to some phantom pain I can still feel it throb.
Maybe reading this book makes me both a sadist and a masochist. Or I'm just torturing myself for no good reason.