que foi parar ao “índex” , à custa de umas lambidelas de gelados e outras criancices perversas

You told lies to my daddy in order to get me.

– Get you? l ain’t got you yet
– And you ain’t about to either. l don’t want to be with a man who’d make me live without furniture.
– Honey…

You make me think of cotton. No… No fabric or cloth…not even satin or silk…no kind of fibre,not even a cotton fibre…has the absolute delicacy of your skin.

– Should l say thanks, or something?

– Just smile.
You’ve got an attractive smile…And dimples…Oh, yes, you do. Smile, Mrs. Meighan

– Please, don’t touch me,l don’t like to be touched.
Mr. Vacarro…
– Yes?
– l think l’ll go and make us some lemonade.
– Why do you giggle, then?
– Because l’m ticklish.
– Ticklish?
– Don’t be so skittish.

-My head is fuzzy.
– Fuzzy?

Fuzzy and buzzy…
-But you said Archie Lee waited?
-Yes, after the wedding
-For what?
-For me to be ready for marriage
-How long did he have to wait?
-Oh, he’s still waiting

-We had an agreement. l told him that on my 20 th birthday,l’d be ready
– That’s tomorrow

And, will you be ready?

– Well, that all depends
– What on?
– Whether or not the furniture comes back

ls that what they call a Mona Lisa smile you’ve got on your puss?

We’ve got nothing to do,but wait for tomorrow

And see if we’re remembered…

or forgotten

Carrol Baker no seu melhor


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São os teus posts (como tipo) de que gosto mais (comentário pueril, saído da admiração e não da busca de uma ortodoxia).

Bovarinha do algodão confederado. Algures entre o index católico e as fogueiras protestantes das bruxas.

“We’ve got nothing to do, but wait for tomorrow”…


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