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  • Journaleqsue | Vilnius
    I start a tradition of mid-afternoon beer, and leave the cafe table feeling a buzz. I wander unpurposefully for a while. I follow one sweet Lithuanian ass covered tightly in denim until I lose sight of it.


  • Poetry | French Spectral Romance


  • Poetry | Night Alone in a Parisian Hotel


  • Fiction | The Allure of Barcelona
    Be sure to ring your bells liberally, Chris, our bike tour guide instructs us. We'll be riding through some narrow streets and you'll have to let people know we're coming.
    Crisp dings fill the air in the cobbled courtyard as we ring our bells with childlike enthusiasm. All right, time to take off, Chris says. We hop up on our bike seats and begin pedaling after him. Slowly we file into a long line of thick-tires, gears, and eager tourists.



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