He stares at me like a wicked angel, saturated with a superabundant beauty he’s perfectly aware of.
And it’s so hard for me even only try and watch him for few seconds...
I know his life has been complicated and extreme, full of turbid passions and wrong romances.
I know that now he's paying the bill, alone and in trouble, but still i can't bear that look on me... eating pop corn inside a loose pijama, on a sagging sofa, in this deadly boring afternoon...
Holy shit where's the remote?!?
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