. . . well!

i have a strong psychic connection with the belgian postal service . . .

this love of life makes me weak at my knees

. . . There were streetcar tracks and beyond them was the cathedral. It was white and wet in the mist. We crossed the tram tracks. On our left were the shops, their windows lighted, and the entrance to the galleria. There was a fog in the square and when we came close to the front of the cathedral it was very big and the stone was wet.

“Would you like to go in?”

“No,” Catherine said. We walked along. There was a soldier standing with his girl in the shadow of one of the stone buttresses ahead of us and we passed them. They were standing tight up against the stone and he had put his cape around her.

“They’re like us,” I said.

“Nobody is like us,” Catherine said.

aw lol :,)

hell yeah lol

yeah this is me every single day of my life LOL

(exhales enormous plume of weed smoke from his nostrils like a dragon) yeah dude . . . 🚬👌

“. . . the shadow side of your personality is that you are currently absorbing a massive amount of pain and anxiety for your friends to keep them safe.”

tearing up (in a good way) behind my sunglasses on the L train back to brooklyn lol