Burninhell Tovarisch Kamarad ...
As a gentleman of exquisite taste, I want to do that you retain the finest memories. It should remain with you an image of femininity of a fragrance suffused with black humor. So I patiently proofread EVERYTHING your blog to keep only the tastiest bits.
The process is now complete, free for you to permanently close the door and throw the key into the nearest river. The right moment is of course the early morning when no one frequents the Mirabeau Bridge bathed in sunshine. Your scarf will fly the ill wind, and the unknown middle-aged smokers underground, the only witness of the scene, sitting nonchalantly on a bench below, sending you a look of complicity to mean that gesture that you just do remain your secret.
Wladoushkoï, cape and top hat.
(No, not my Ogma Many who switch from paper to screen one of these days)
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