It was my birthday on the 14th, I am feeling old and morose. I spent it getting drunk and reading smut. Ah, c'est la vie, n'est pas? So, Proust, dear dead quasi-beloved, I'll fill out your questionnaire for two reasons: 1) I kinda half love you, and 2) I love babbling on about myself.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Coffee, books,
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