So, I am going to suffer with this short story for another month. Professor says I can't change it, which is a shame since it's completely inspired by painter Sylvia Ji. It's delicate and dark and sort of raw, like eating rare steak with a pile of nasturtiums on top.

However, it's getting colder outside, and Halloween is over, and all all all I want is to write some funny, fast story that tastes like mulled wine. I'm so into Toulouse Lautrec. Oh, Henri, you'll always be a very special French dwarf to me.