Journalism never admits that nothing much is happening.
Blonds look angelic, but can (oh, happy!) be fleshy as well.
A beautiful woman peers out her window, as full of envy as the harridan who peers up at her from the street.
Belief forages, moving from pasture to pasture.
My mind no longer has romantic abysses, but has become shallow, with many little gaps and cracks.
Amazing that the human race has taken enough time out from thinking about food or sex to create the arts and sciences.