Icelandic music makes me horny.
You know what I hate most about people - it’s when they are chameleons, when I see how a person acts absolutely different in front of another person, says something absolutely different compared to what he shared with you a couple of minutes ago. Those people disgust me in a songle mone tif though those couple of minuted ago I felt we had something in common. Not anymore, not now. Sorry, not sorry.
I wish I had time. But I can’t. No one can. It’s literally unbearable.
Having eaten the food I cooked myself I realised - I would marry myself.
So I brushed my teeth with the other hand: everything seemed to change. The toothpaste tasted different, eyes caught the ring on finger, and even the water flow seemed to run in a different direction.