on her triumphal robe, sewn with pearls, flowered with silver, sheeted with gold, the jewelled breastplate, whose every stitch is a precious stone, bursts into flame, scatters in snakes of fire, swarms on the ivory-toned, tea-rose flesh, like splendid insects with dazzling wings, marbled with carmine, dotted with morning gold, diapered with steel-blue, streaked with peacock-green
And it felt like every single issue had an ad for Kool or Newports or Virginia Slims on the back cover
Why are there still ashtrays at all
According to Jaeda Newton the worst thing about winter is the cold weather and how you could get sick easily