There is something sad and yet beautiful about the morning after the night before. The road sweepers clean up a million stories, perhaps a million best sellers of broken noses and broken hearts, that are the companions of broken promises mumbled in drunken moments of passion or rage. The stories of the night belong to the night and have no place in the bright morning sunshine. all evidence must be washed down the drains along with the fag butts and used condom, conscience makes cowards of us all. halfmanhalfwallmonthlymagazine.com http://davidcoomber.zenfolio.com/:
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