But it’s cold there and my room is filled with leaves for no goddamn reason.
Leaves, everywhere. Like some kind of Mark Z. Danielewski novel.
How are you real?
Trust me, even I’m not exactly sure.
But it’s cold there and my room is filled with leaves for no goddamn reason.
Leaves, everywhere. Like some kind of Mark Z. Danielewski novel.
How are you real?
Trust me, even I’m not exactly sure.
Trust me, even I’m not exactly sure.
How are you real?