Our Camay is getting married tomorrow. And we wished for joy and fun and seasons in the sun.
She is the first of our lot, and it’s a pleasant sort of thinking to be surprised at the fact. Who knows what it is like to be married, and why does the world want to tear away the picture in your head and tell you that life is brutal and things are not as rosy as you want them to be? does not matter, cause I think they are rosy anyway.
Misswholeworld is the id of someone. And I really rather love it, mane there’s this completely honest no holds barred self absorption in it although it is so corny. And on the other, this deep deep yearning I find for everything out there separated from you by the transparent film of your indecision, incompleteness: no Hamlet but a fool.
Bad English is my birthright
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