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a potpourri of sense and feminine lunacy

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sway

When i sit still and observe all around me in the dark, it's almost as if it's a movie and everything becomes technicolour perfect. Moves and lyrics are rehearsed and performed with flawlessness and fluency. Things are prettier when they move in the dim because motion conceals blemishes that stillness and light would otherwise blatantly parade.

For a moment tonight, sipping my Shirley Temple and swaying to the rock beats in artificial twilight, everything seems perfect, just perfect.

M # Friday, September 25, 2009.