It smells of buxom, boisterous women: bosoms tumbling from man-made fabric folds, galloping towards a finish line somewhere far beyond the dawn. Cigarettes and Cinzano; short chubby fingers climbing an inner thigh, a sharp song...
Category - USA
The thing is, I am in heaven right now. Well, I am not in heaven yet, but at the gates about to cross over. Looking in, I see records. Thousands upon thousands of records. In crates stacked on top of each other, six deep, ceiling...