I envy -- but I'm not sure that I envy -- those for whom a biography could be written, or who could write their own. In these random impressions, and with no desire to be other than random, I indifferently narrate my factless autobiography, my lifeless history. These are my Confessions, and if in them I say nothing, it's because I have nothing to say.
1 comment:
aargh! I'm trying to read blogs sneakily at work, but crying kind of ruins the covert operation! darn beautiful *sniff*
x Pepper
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