In her flowy skirt, with her flowy hair, bare feet, and still the single eyebrow, she reads a poem that sounds like it came straight from English class.
The British empire had much to be said for it, but it is over – dead, deceased, struck off, no more.
This town has an antigraffiti law.
These things should have something of the positive underneath, or they degenerate into conventionality and schoolgirlism.
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