I speak, of course, of existentialism in the American tradition, the kind found in dingy middleclass diners in a rainy postwar hustling city, inside the cups of black coffee that arent really even coffee to begin with, just dirt and maybe youll get luck and maybe therell be a worm in your coffee and everything just turns into some kind of surreality with the worm rambling on about coconuts and the weather and whether or not it wants to die and be in your stomach at all.
But the coffees not the important part. The reason why you go to these places in the first place is not for the coffee or the waitresses or the odd f
Wow. first of all, i'm engaged. second of all, pretty much every picture of me on this website is from when i was 17 or younger. just letting you know you're a pedophile and maybe you shouldn't leave creepy fucking comments on stranger's profiles.