The people, the photographer, the tan, the altar, the hair cuts, the city, the horrible coffee machine that was always on the brink of explosion, the Pol Remy, the bucket from Tati, the colours, the Le Chateau, the time, the pink lip stick, the night that followed, the heart broken in that way and not in another, the fake wooden floor, the jokes and the thoughts of that day.
It’s not that I prefer that to what I have now – I just want both worlds at once.
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