I wish I had a European accent. One of those which is implacable to an American. Where we sit and strain and hope they speak in their native tongue, then when they do our first instinct is "uh...Klingon?" Because then I could smoke cigarettes. Americans murder cigarettes. Its done in such arbitrary anger as a way to destroy a cigarette. While these implacable Europeans smoke to create. It reminds you of Pablo Picasso painting Lump. So delicate, petite, simple, and PERFECT. You sit and stare at it as if its jazz music. Complex, simple, inexplicable. A single stroke of subtle brilliance. Plus, ya know, the ladies.
Posted on: Mon, 08 Jul 2013 05:02:06 +0000
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