Thursday, May 23, 2013

Dans cett vie

You know why it's emotionally draining to write something like Red River? It's because everything has to be so fucking literary. Like, You can't go in there and just say "A guy is playing the piano." You have to come up with shit like "...fingers skimming over the tapered rows of coal and ivory like a storm over Mont St-Ambriere."

Is there even a Mont St-Ambriere in France?


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