“Right now you’re thinking… who is this girl, and what’s wrong with her? She must be crazy. No, sad… sad in a chair with… cats. Cats? No, a cross word puzzle. A puzzle and tea. No, beer. Beer, she’s tough? Thinks she’s tough, but not like that. Picture her… younger. No, older. Picture someone with fake teeth. You never really know.”


I read palms. I have gypsy in my blood and I know I belong nowhere. It's nice to be okay with that.

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