pray note the critic wears a cap and refuses to rush. one bite, one pout, one connected glee between us, then silence. ma föi, the service was ours entirely. bonsoir, next table, please?
(v/..), brief interlude,
“an old phones doing better”
cracked screens n’ chunky cases have more character than thy shiny new-comers. certes, some things age like fine bordeaux. now yo kindly scroll on and admire dé results, bébé 💋.
{…} ! so much thought in ‘tis mōind, while beijing striketh midnight whilst LA yawneth at eight, yet I stand in the studio, headphones on, brow arched. no music no life ;p
(&.) withal, the floors tick by n’ the bass thumps low, a pulse under my böots. gramercy, upstairs, for the stage. I cross one leg, sling my chain bag just so & let the phone dangle, unbothered. till then, mä béllé, the “squabble” is mine #voilà.
(+k) / kendrick’s squabble up plays low n’ slinky, bass thumping like a courtier’s heartbeat, and I nod, unhurried. prithee, lower thy voices, the groove hath the floor.
forsooth, mön amour of my life, dé tower was but the overture n’ shibuya is the encore. methinks leopard prowls whilst the crossin’ waits, signals blinkin’, bracelets clinkin’.
gadzooks, mön amour dé l'amour, the victuals were divine. belike I sampl’d every trencher in here, sauce upon my lip. certes, a diva doth not share her last morsel. bon appétit, mön bébé!