Madrid

On our way from Madrid airport we asked a girl who must have been a model from Sweden or something, about how to get to Gran Vía station, and both Caroline and I had a crush on her by the end of it, despite being confirmed androphiliacs. Our hostel was on the seventh floor of […]

London Moaning

I imagined I was Kate Bush in a highly impractical neck-to-ankle black velvet dress with lace trim, running, stumbling on the stupidly pretty clumps of weeds, and looking back with fear and longing at a tall, hauntingly dashing man in a cravat as he chased after me with murder in his heart.