He makes me want to paint in washed pastels. Easter eggs. Lilies. I want to play with a kitten. See pink ribbons on the back of thatched hats. Sunshine. Sap green hills smeared with white. Giggles of children.
I like movies about dwarfs meeting talkative Italians who sell snowcones in the countryside of New Jersey alongside traintracks with bright pinstriped cars.
I'd like to take him out. I bet he wish he could too. He makes me want to be completely sober. I never want to see another 8 minutes of another movie he ever puts out. He's like a Baptist preacher. The only difference is that he knows it.
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