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CHARLES LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS

Is anyone interested in my OnlyFlans page?

When Cécile said “Have you seen that swans? I’ve never shown you the swan’” (She had actually, a dozen of time at least) I felt that we were not going to arrive to her home anytime soon. Cécile had stopped usby the road. I felt really sick from the medicamentation. The flan. The actual best flan. Much better that the one from yesterday with Pierre-Emmanuel.

The cat had this new faze to follow me in the street everytime I came out of the house to get the tube at Swiss Cottage. Very decisive, as sson as he would see me exited the door he would start following me with confidence sending a strong message that “Yes today is the day I am coming with you to your studio”. This 250 kilos, stray cat, in balck and white suit, married to a japanese artist names Fumiko Imano, used to have his moments. None that he was leaving between two houses and almost had taken me to court for negligence on personal pet, he used to have a very peculiar and personal routine.
Anyway, these days his goal was to take the tube. An dI was ready to allow him but… as soon as we were passing by Nina Simone’s house (That’s how we called the house of the old lady living the end of xxxroad) Charlie the cat would flastered and go back. I had always imagined that one day he would eventually penetrate to swiss cottage place and eventually follow me inside the tube but this never happened.
That’s what I was thinking about when that day of market I passed by a very familiar figure just before I entered the tube. It was the day of market at swiss cottage and amongst the few stands (It was a very small market, very intimist, just in front of the theatre school here valentine would begin her short and fulgurant carreer into acting) my eyes caught my dear friend Yu’s gaze. And I swear he was selling cakes none with that Madame Figaro’s japan’ husband.
The week after he will deny and call crazy in front of the audience I would outing him front but ten years later he will finally admit. It went like this

– “Oh well… It’s like it was yesterday”
– “When I was selling cakes in Swiss Cottage Market”
– “Was is it a true story or my racist ass invented it because it was just an Asian person?”
– “Lol”
– “I mean you swear (for years) you never sold cakes and I invented the story”
– “I was selling cakes helping my boss’s husband”
– “Because the fact that I was a patent racist liar inventing fake stories about my friends is in my book so…. (smiley)”

We had this conversation without having seeing each other for years. At that time my full time job was to post sad kitten and funny cakes on Instagram. I had thrown myself into a  crusade to find the best flan ever

"When your full time job is to post sad kitten and funny cakes on Instagram."

The cat had this new faze to follow me in the street everytime I came out of the house to get the tube at Swiss Cottage. Very decisive, as sson as he would see me exited the door he would start following me with confidence sending a strong message that “Yes today is the day I am coming with you to your studio”. This 250 kilos, stray cat, in balck and white suit, married to a japanese artist names Fumiko Imano, used to have his moments. None that he was leaving between two houses and almost had taken me to court for negligence on personal pet, he used to have a very peculiar and personal routine.
Anyway, these days his goal was to take the tube. An dI was ready to allow him but… as soon as we were passing by Nina Simone’s house (That’s how we called the house of the old lady living the end of xxxroad) Charlie the cat would flastered and go back. I had always imagined that one day he would eventually penetrate to swiss cottage place and eventually follow me inside the tube but this never happened.
That’s what I was thinking about when that day of market I passed by a very familiar figure just before I entered the tube. It was the day of market at swiss cottage and amongst the few stands (It was a very small market, very intimist, just in front of the theatre school here valentine would begin her short and fulgurant carreer into acting) my eyes caught my dear friend Yu’s gaze. And I swear he was selling cakes none with that Madame Figaro’s japan’ husband.
The week after he will deny and call crazy in front of the audience I would outing him front but ten years later he will finally admit. It went like this

– “Oh well… It’s like it was yesterday”
– “When I was selling cakes in Swiss Cottage Market”
– “Was is it a true story or my racist ass invented it because it was just an Asian person?”
– “Lol”
– “I mean you swear (for years) you never sold cakes and I invented the story”
– “I was selling cakes helping my boss’s husband”
– “Because the fact that I was a patent racist liar inventing fake stories about my friends is in my book so…. (smiley)”

We had this conversation without having seeing each other for years. At that time my full time job was to post sad kitten and funny cakes on Instagram. I had thrown myself into a  crusade to find the best flan ever

The cat had this new faze to follow me in the street everytime I came out of the house to get the tube at Swiss Cottage. Very decisive, as sson as he would see me exited the door he would start following me with confidence sending a strong message that “Yes today is the day I am coming with you to your studio”. This 250 kilos, stray cat, in balck and white suit, married to a japanese artist names Fumiko Imano, used to have his moments. None that he was leaving between two houses and almost had taken me to court for negligence on personal pet, he used to have a very peculiar and personal routine.
Anyway, these days his goal was to take the tube. An dI was ready to allow him but… as soon as we were passing by Nina Simone’s house (That’s how we called the house of the old lady living the end of xxxroad) Charlie the cat would flastered and go back. I had always imagined that one day he would eventually penetrate to swiss cottage place and eventually follow me inside the tube but this never happened.
That’s what I was thinking about when that day of market I passed by a very familiar figure just before I entered the tube. It was the day of market at swiss cottage and amongst the few stands (It was a very small market, very intimist, just in front of the theatre school here valentine would begin her short and fulgurant carreer into acting) my eyes caught my dear friend Yu’s gaze. And I swear he was selling cakes none with that Madame Figaro’s japan’ husband.
The week after he will deny and call crazy in front of the audience I would outing him front but ten years later he will finally admit. It went like this

– “Oh well… It’s like it was yesterday”
– “When I was selling cakes in Swiss Cottage Market”
– “Was is it a true story or my racist ass invented it because it was just an Asian person?”
– “Lol”
– “I mean you swear (for years) you never sold cakes and I invented the story”
– “I was selling cakes helping my boss’s husband”
– “Because the fact that I was a patent racist liar inventing fake stories about my friends is in my book so…. (smiley)”

We had this conversation without having seeing each other for years. At that time my full time job was to post sad kitten and funny cakes on Instagram. I had thrown myself into a  crusade to find the best flan ever

 

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"When your full time job is to post sad kitten and funny cakes on Instagram."

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Therapy horses in hospitals do exist and that’s what they look like.

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America has been flooded by a tsunami of cute–we’re drowning in puppies.

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