And I heard it. “OMG. That Starbucks.” It was me speaking. And the driver told me a week ago that he still remembered too. We were watching that Oakton playground which happened to be up on his TV screen; and I probably made me think I would start to laugh at it.
That Starbucks I walked by at night, trying to find the nice hotel where I had a one-night sovereign resting and recovering before. And it somehow went to a totally different route. You know those nice country people who would like to give it a try about anything if not about anyone. I never asked them to. I never invite strangers’ damn fucking show in any of my chapters. Fuck. Because I don't have other options. And I tried to speak their ditchy languages that they themselves don't even like, while each one of them would want to be in any trend with their all-the-same shit.
Because I have a high morale. And ridiculously, no one enjoyed watching me walking or trying to get over the rail tracks, be it at day or at night — this…
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