Who could live to gaze from day to day on bricks and slates, who had once felt the influence of a scene like this? Who could continue to exist, where there are no cows but the cows on the chimneypots; nothing redolent of Pan but pan-tiles; […]
The fish in this area have been overharvested for years.
You shagged bare lads, you're a little sket / Have you heard your bars? They're fucking pept
That point was where I started feeling like a “bad gay,” like I was too weird, too queer, too open about being a pervert, and celebrating being a leatherperson as part of my identity.
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