So office. Need I say more?
Yes. Dilli too: gray, cold(that's a fucking understatement), dreary.
On the other hand it's nice to find poems being written about me on the blogosphere. Even if they are not written about me, I can always pretend they are (mwahahaha). And I don't mean love poems dedicated to the eternal feminine or summat.
*snort* I just tried imagining myself as someone's (not any particular someone but a general somebody) feminine ideal. *snort*
I'm waiting for some colours. In search of which i ended up spending some more money at People Tree. This way the dream of owning a DSLR (a D 3000, maybe) will remain just that: a dream.
I wonder about the etymological origins of the word crib and how it came to signify two such different things. Maybe not so different when you consider that all babies do in cribs is cribbing. Only it's called bawling when a baby cribs. 'Cause the baby can't speak.
Ok dammit! why can I not write prettily like you, you and YOU?
I have an excuse: My fingers are frozen.
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