… like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.
London’s not burning. It’s melting.
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Tag Archives: notting hill
And ixnay on the wishing for more wishes. That’s all. Three. Uno, dos, tres.
You knew the restaurant was going to be trendy because it was under a sex shop. I’d arrived first and was snuggled into the basement sex-den-come-Mexican-bodega with a tempranillo and the deliberately cryptic menu.
