My Lady Zeroin
Sailing on a sea of wine, on the back of a dead pigeon we believed to be a white swan, then we landed on another Switzerland that wasn't swiss for a penny. And Katie Grand backstabbed us again, all we were bleeding was words and drunken delights. Anna Cleveland, leopard prints, nipples and craze from hair to painted toes, painted with pain and pride. Hens and trashcans, total paradise, lost in heavy heaven, somewhere up south. Life under legal substances like pricy food and cheap alcohol makes miracles when your eyes get to lick some Jürgen Teller photographs, then get some visual scars that make you enjoy life more than bitter sex. When you can't watch the greatest ass on earth any longer, waving at you like a double moon caught dancing with the wind, every fix of whatever liquor becomes a good one. Thank you from the bottom of our rotten hearts, guys from LOVE.