If love were a product, the queue at the faulty goods desk would stretch right round the universe and back. It doesn’t work properly. The seams come apart and it’s full of powdered glass.
If love were a product, the queue at the faulty goods desk
If love were a product, the queue at the faulty goods desk would stretch right round the universe and back. It doesn’t work properly. The seams come apart and it’s full of powdered glass.
