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One of the most delicious things in life is too-strong coffee and a cigarette at seven in the morning.
The strangest things make me feel decadent and beautiful.

In the strangest, most inexplicable way - walking around Toronto alone on a day like today, where it was still cold, still winter, but there was a hint of spring in the air - makes me feel unspeakably beautiful.

I am quick to share when my cup is full of happiness;
but I prefer to drink my sorrow alone.

I wonder if you know, how every second is a serial killer.