seven years ago, in a life underwater.
half a bottle of wine on the first night. half a bottle of wine on the second night. a bottle of wine on the third night (hello, argentina!), and you are starving.
you cannot sleep without a seashell on your ear and a seahorse sigh down your throat. you think you can take away the hook from your gums but they are still digging at it, you are still starving, and stainless steel is your only aftertaste—trusty, and unequaled.
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