“I love to smoke. Smoking a cigarette is like forgetting. When I hit rock bottom it's all I have. Light up, smoke up, shut the fuck up. It hides the shit. The smoke hides the shit. There's menthol and vanilla. Some people like 'em. Menthol cigarette. Vanilla cigarette. Chocolate cigarette. Cigarette cigarette. Cigarettes keep me from going crazy. Keeps me alive. It keeps me alive until I die.”—Marie, Les amours imaginaires
In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.
In two straight lines they broke their bread and brushed their teeth and went to bed.
They smiled at the good and frowned at the bad and sometimes they were very sad.
They left the house at half past nine in two straight lines in rain or shine
The smallest one was Madeline.