Peoples. Persons. Wantons.

Here I am, some call me mon amie blablabla. Do you remember? I don't remember what language it was. It's all the same in my head. However, they are all the same now, the mon amies and mon amours, they just have different names.
Moreover, I am in the middle of London. Red buses, the Big Ben in the background. 
I am eating my favourite haloumi wrap in Camden, and I am exploring the world in the natural history museum.
But most of all, I am staring. Staring at interesting people. What a great thing to do in a city like this.

And this wonderful creature, oh my days she is beautiful. Like a flower. 
I hope that Brighton will be the perfect place for this perfect person. 
We have squirrels on our hands and pelicans right in front of us. 
London is a zoo and we are right in the middle of it. Oh my days, life is good with her.

Donkeys years. So many years. Is it five? We don't know. This country brung us together.
So here we are, telling stories about the past and the future. It's all the same. We're just the same. 

My host. The insecure soul who wishes others well. We cook and cook, the most amazing foods in the world. 
And then I pursuade him to think whatever I want him to think. I don't know why, but it has never been this easy. So, now he's green and antipenalties. Good for me and for the country.