The Bad Days Will End.Contact.

Citta Violenta.



























 
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a time for fear
 
Friday, January 23, 2004  
I need to be left in Pakistan, with laptop, contacts and contract. I can't keep making this rubbish up. I need a nice wife, like Monica Bellucci or something. I'm almost 26, and have nothing except youth, which is draining fast. How ridiculous! Cracking quangos in Tower Hamlets, a reporter-sleuth, in trenchcoat and snap brim fedora - that's me! At least, IT SHOULD BE. Connecting East End to the World - Afghanistan or Columbia or Beijing or whereever. I have: distinct jawline, fine Roman nose, strong bones; I'm a suspicious hawk, with vague misgivings, a distrust of Utopian rhetoric, but special fine grade optimism. I can be useful.

Fuck foxes, you should have heard the gulls cry above Orion House.

12:05 PM

 
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