Vodka tastes like razorblades. Like needles (I was tempted to write like Thousand Needles, but I never really tasted a Tauren and local flora and fauna mixtures)
There's something in this edge she spoke of, when it gets to your blood. The flaming water, eh? I have to agree with them right there. After some turns of stubborn abstinence I have decided to give it a go. Why not after all? Suddenly the cousins talked to me and fun began. Of course that didn't stop the world and my head from bothering me, but I guess, that it was meant to be anyway.
Food was good. Was excellent. And trying to sleep in a freezing car is not. Definately not. I thought my feet would die or something. But ohwell.
Meh. Cba. I'm stupid. Whatever.
Yellow shirt. Purr. I hate you all.
Sunrise like an ink splash. Fog over the river. Drowned people kept at bay. Like a thin white line between relaxation, suicide and rotting.
Something's wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong.
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