lowkey think Vegas is obsessed with wine
Vegas: I'm having salad for dinner.
Vegas: Well, fruit salad
Vegas: Actually, it's mostly grapes.
Vegas: Fermented grapes
Vegas:
Vegas: It's wine
Vegas: I'm having wine for dinner
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Subtle Organic Notes
It was wonderful to receive a letter back in the age of snail mail. I lived in a one-room apartment on the edge of the Hollywood Hills. In the evening after work, I’d unlock my mailbox and sort through the bills and adverts. On a good day, I’d get a letter from my mother, typed on her manual typewriter, the one with the small d and o filled in shadow, the same one I goofed around with as a child. The cool thing about paper letters is their high savoring ability. I’d wait for the perfect moment, make a cup of tea, get comfortable in my favorite spot next to the window, and slice the envelope open with a paring knife.
She’d bring me up to date on the family and include an occasional photo or newspaper clipping. As the price of long-distance phone calls dropped, the letters slowed and eventually stopped. Because someone thought enough about me to take the time to write, I couldn’t bring myself to throw the letters away. Back then, we didn’t know how well a letter would age or what it would be like years later to pull it from the same envelope licked closed by the sender. Or how aging a paper letter brings forth subtle organic notes, allowing it to be savored like a fine wine.
To view more missives: https://ravenswork.com
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Mood cause life gettin hard
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Crowley, sipping wine: I'm so tired of this life. I want to be a roomba. I want knives taped to me. And I want to be set loose.
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