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My Lovely Doris,

It has been a long while while since I wrote last. I miss you dearly. My heart skips several beats at the thought of your beauty… The thought of your lips against mine… The thought of your skin on mine!

I have not had time to write to you lately! I have stories for you though. There is one about a matatu dropping me off near a grave yard it the dead of the night because I didn’t have change for 1000 bob and another one where I was in the same compound with Shebesh and Sonko and there were gunshots and 1000 women screaming and shouting… At that same compound a policeman with a gun asked me to switch off the music we were listening to because it was too loud! But that one is for another day!

This is a letter I received at the beginning of this year. Another woman who is convinced she is Doris. She will state a few things she claims we did together! Do not believe her!

black-woman-writing-letterDear Ian,

You’re weird! I like weird! I love weird! I would choose weird any day.

Life has never let me choose though. If it had I would not be writing to you with tears in my eyes afraid that you are forgetting about me. I would wake up next to your freakishly long legs every morning… and other long things I remember about you. I would still be playing with your bee sting nipples on Saturday mornings while you read me funny comments on askreddit. I would be falling asleep on your chest while we watch a movie every night. We would be sharing a smoke after ruining dinner because we were busy catching a quickie. I would be wearing nothing under your t-shirt while we watch Boondocks on Sunday morning. I would be with you….

Remember our last night together? You tried singing to me. God, you have the worst voice. That didn’t stop you though; I have always loved that about you. That was one of the many nights we chose to stay in together rather than be out getting drunk and dirty with our friends. My friends were starting to complain by the way. I wore that red t-shirt of yours, that one that you always hated me for wearing because you had wanted to wear it too? Yes, that one.  Oh and you should stop looking for it, I took it with me. Your laugh was louder that night, your kisses deeper and your touch more gentle. Something was different about us that night. It was like we were not afraid to be vulnerable anymore, like nothing but us mattered. I had never been so certain of my love for you like I was on that day. As days pass, I am more convinced that I will never feel any different for you.

I hate that I had to leave but I kept something that will always remind me of that night. I kept a star from that night that shines brighter every day. Her name is Gian. She is lovely!

Something bothers me, you are not writing to me as much as you used to. You are even letting other men write to me, I don’t hate the attention. Worse, you wrote to Adele! The latter arouses very many different shades of jealous in me. What is happening to your feelings for me? Surely you are not going to forget about me, are you? I would hate to not have your letters to hug tight at night when my husband sleeps over at his third wife’s house. We need to talk; our talk has been long overdue. I am afraid, however, that I might not go back to my husband’s house if I so much as get a two second hug from you…. Aaaah your hugs! Those used to feel so good.

Please find a good woman to take care of you. I hear you are becoming thinner and are beginning to look sickly. I wish I could cook for you again but… well, responsibilities. Every once in a while I will sneak away for a smoke in honor of what we used to be. I hope you found your monglinyo, sorry had to put that somewhere.

I have to go make dinner and practice my happy look for when he comes…if he comes.

I luv you!

Yours now and forever,

The Real Doris

 

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OPEN LETTER TO ADELE LAURIE BLUE ADKINS


Dear Adele,

This blog was meant for letters to my one and only love Doris. Do not get this wrong. You are being addressed on stolen time… aren’t those always the best?

This might bring a few issues between Doris and myself. I have thought about this move long and hard… I am doing it.

Before I started I googled ‘how to start a love letter’ and out of the 12 pages I looked through, not a single one really brought out what I wanted to say… all of them started with pet names… sweetheart and honey… and my love… and my beautiful… to me you are neither… I would rather address you as ‘my soon to be’… ok I am being a bit psychopathic… Dear Adele did it just fine.

I am sure you haven’t been reading my letters to Doris so you have no idea why I am writing to you… let me brig you up to speed… Walk to the nearest reflecting surface and look at yourself…

You have probably noticed that you are plus sized… this tiny fact (the word play is not intentional) is big… I am completely weak for big women… If I had the kind of money you have… and you had the kind of money I had (which is above average in Kenya)… I would have asked you to marry me… this makes no sense…

Still at that reflective surface? If so, you have probably noticed the hue of your skin… it is more light than dark… yes? Obvious… I love yelo yelo women… you are white… oh my knees tremble… You probably smell like white people… I like how clean white people smell… they smell like shampoo… and lotion… and candles… and soap… and eucalyptus… and jojoba.

CN1m3

This made me laugh a bit…

Your songs are sad… An intern at my office told me yesterday that your ex boyfriend left you for a man… is this why your songs are so sad? You need someone to love you good… a tall black man… who just shaved off his signature beard. By the way I just shaved off my signature beard. The barber did it by mistake… so o refused to pay him…

I love big, intelligent, yelo yelo women with tiny feet… I don’t know about your shoe size but your voice can be substituted with the feet… I like your voice…

Its 1.30am as I write this… I can’t even think straight… and I am doing this on my phone… this is a bit hard because my eyesight is shit… sorry for cussing. So you are aware how serious this is.

I am sorry but I don’t think the lyrics to ‘set fire to the rain’ make sense… the chorus totally loses me… ‘I set fire to the rain… watch it burn… then I touch your face…’ Come on Adele… But worry not… when we ate together we will go through a few songs I have been writing which I think are amazing…

I heard that you found someone and you are married now… (jinx). You have a kid now? This being with you thing is getting slimmer by the paragraph…

I do not want your money though… I have enough of my own… at least till December… then, if we are together that is, we can work some sort of deal out… yes? So us will not be about money… yes? I don’t have much in tangible materials … but in my heart, I have everything!

What beauty!

What beauty!

I am tired and I have an early morning… plus I have to watch Groods before I sleep… so my darling… allow me to pen off… pen off is so high school…

I will write to you again someday… hopefully before December.

I can love you.

Yours.

For @lydzayar its people like you who make me keep writing.

 
 

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Money Lover


My Lovely Piece of Chicken,

Love, I know you are a bit perplexed at why I refer to you as a piece of chicken… I mean not to deprecate or diminish your worth in my heart… I, but see you as an edible piece of delicious chicken… How I long for your skin to play upon my lips… As I kiss your thighs… As I eat you… Your tender skin only but loyal to my lips upon every kiss…

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

I think I have been watching Spartacus a bit too long, my grammar is all weird…

It rained hard this morning… So I stayed in bed longer than usual… I woke up at 10am. I woke up to the site of my househelp bent upon the floor scrubbing the tiles beneath her. I am not sure if you quite see what I am trying to say! It is not a sight to wake up to…WHO LET HER INTO THE HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE! What do you know, maybe tomorrow I might wake up to the watchman shitting in my toilet! BOUNDERIES YE NIGGAS!

On to other things… Driving to work with all the puddles, you have to mind the pedestrians… Eventhough no one minded me on the days I used to be a pedestrian… my parents taught me right though… I try my best never to splash dirty water at any man or woman… I even stop the car sometimes, which normally drives the person in the car behind me furious!

When I got to Westlands though, I came by a white pedestrian… I splashed water at him. He did not look like a nice person! I don’t like people who do not look like nice people…

“YOU COCK!” He shouted at me frantically waving his middle finger at me! The white man in his right mind thought it right to refer to me as a male hen… I do not understand people!453_562308470454489_693772547_n

But this letter was not about cocks or white men… This is about this song called Money Lover by Sauti Sol which if you did not know is my best band in the world followed quite closely by Coldpaly and Boyz || Men.

Listen to the song here

It is A JAM! So there is this part in the song that goes like, “Heri uliye kwenye rage rover, ama ucheke kwenye boda boda… Ukose usingizi Runda, masaibu yanakufuata…” which if you do not understand Kiswahili, simply means, “would you rather cry in a range rover or laugh on a bicycle… Lack sleep in Runda with problems following you” That translation sucks but its close and that is all that matters…

About this part, I have for the longest time felt this was a no brainer… AS IN YOU CAN BET YOUR ASS I WILL BE WEEPING IN THAT RANGE ROVER!!!! AND I WILL BE WIDE AWAKE IN THAT MANSION IN RUNDA! Plus try picture yourself laughing on a bicycle… If your picture is right, you should be looking like a mad man! Did you ever read this Kiswahili storybook in Primary called, ‘Mjinga Na Kioo’? It is a brilliant example of how you look laughing on a bicycle…

Then the other night when I was listening to the song I stopped to think about it… Here is what I came up with.

As in try thinking about what would make you cry… A cheating husband… Death of a child… cutting onions… You losing your job… The list goes on and on! NOW TRY IMAGINING GOING THROUGH ALL THIS EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF THE DAY!!! EVERY DAY! Now add the range rover… Sad huh! You would probably drive that car into a creek or something! Maybe not creek, maybe Nairobi River!

Second bit… “Ukose usingizi Runda, masaibu yanakufuata…” Should I even explain this?

So I changed my mind about what I had ealier felt… I WOULD RATHER LAUGH MY ASS OFF STRAPPED ON THAT BODA BODA… I would look psycho… But I wouyld be one happy mothapsycho!

Sauti Sol has just released a new song called STILL THE ONE another BIG JAM! Listen to it here:

My Love Doris, I leave you with this…

 
3 Comments

Posted by on April 17, 2013 in comedy, love

 

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Romance…


My Lovely Doris,

Don’t expect me to be sane anymore. Don’t let’s be sensible. I can’t see how I can go on living away from you—these intermissions are death. How did it seem to you when your husband came back? Was I still there? I can’t picture you moving about with him as you did with me. Legs closed. Frailty. Sweet, treacherous acquiescence. Bird docility. You became a woman with me. I was almost terrified by it. You are not just thirty years old—you are a thousand years old.

Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger. I read the paper about suicides and murders and I understand it all thoroughly. I feel murderous, suicidal. I feel somehow that it is a disgrace to do nothing, to just bide one’s time, to take it philosophically, to be sensible. Where has gone the time when men fought, killed, died for a glove, a glance, etc?

I still hear you singing in the kitchen—a sort of inharmonic, monotonous Cuban wail. I know you’re happy in the kitchen and the meal you’re cooking is the best meal we ever ate together. I know you would scald yourself and not complain. I feel the greatest peace and joy sitting in the dining room listening to you rustling about, your dress like the goddess Indra studded with a thousand eyes.

My lovely Doris, I only thought I loved you before; it was nothing like this certainty that’s in me now. Was all this so wonderful only because it was brief and stolen? Were we acting for each other, to each other? Was I less I, or more I, and you less or more you? Is it madness to believe that this could go on? When and where would the drab moments begin? I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever!

I picture you playing the records over and over— your husbands records. “Parlez moi d amour.” The double life, double taste, double joy and misery. How you must be furrowed and ploughed by it. I know all that, but I can’t do anything to prevent it. I wish indeed it were me who had to endure it. I know now your eyes are wide open. Certain things you will never believe anymore, certain gestures you will never repeat, certain sorrows, misgivings, you will never again experience. A kind of white criminal fervour in your tenderness and cruelty. Neither remorse nor vengeance, neither sorrow nor guilt. A living it out, with nothing to save you from the abysm but a high hope, a faith, a joy that you tasted, that you can repeat when you will.

All morning I was at my notes, ferreting through my life records, wondering where to begin, how to make a start, seeing not just another book before me but a life of books. But I don’t begin. The walls are completely bare—I had taken everything down before going to meet you. It is as though I had made ready to leave for good. The spots on the walls stand out—where our heads rested. While it thunders and lightnings I lie on the bed and go through wild dreams. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are admitted everywhere and they strew our path with flowers.

I say this is a wild dream—but it is this dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings, continuing where we left off. Resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before—consciously, wilfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience.

Yours forever,

Ian

Above is a letter from the book ‘A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953′ I loved it so much that I decided tailor it for Doris. Or rather, copy pasted with Doris’s name thrown here and there! The original letter can be found here.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 22, 2013 in love, random, sex, women tales

 

How To Cheat


(In case you missed this on crazynairobian.com)

My Lovely Doris,

I mean what I am about to say. I know distance weakens faith and trust… And love… Distance makes you do things… Lie, cheat, and lie some more… That, might have been how man was built! The moment we lose something, we quickly find a way of replacing it with something else – all because of the fear of emptiness loss comes with… Distance! I have not seen your beautiful face for almost 8 years now. Vast waters separate us… It kills me… The thought that you might be enjoying the distance crushes me… I forgive you for what you have done and are yet to do… Distance! A man resides in your house… Your neighbor updates me. I am not afraid. The thought of seeing you again sometime strengthens my faithfulness to you. There will be no other. No woman comes close to you in my heart.

What I am about to tell you is extremely important… Man lies! There are careers even fueled by how well one can lie… Look at lawyers, politicians, cobblers!

Don’t try making sense out of cobblers, I couldn’t come up with a third one so I wrote the first thing that came to my mind!

I lie a lot… and I suck at it… I am always busted.

To cheat, you need to be excellent at lying… I am going to teach you how to cheat… Exciting huh?? I love it!

Please be advised that I can’t stand this behavior and anyone caught doing it should be… well… Yeah!

I am going to teach you from true stories of my life… (I can hear teeth chatter)

I was no more than 10 years old! And I was going out with 3 of the sexiest women in my class. This is how to do it…

Let me create a scene…

I sat right at the front of my class… So close to my teacher I could smell the insides of her hand bag every time she unzipped it… It smelt like IT! You all remember IT??? This is not a joke… There was an insecticide called IT! But this story is not about my teachers hand bag… She once called my mother and told her I have refused to learn how to spell because she couldn’t convince me sugar was spelt as is and not SHUGA!!! I still strongly feel that it should be spelt my way… No man can convince me otherwise… But I am an educated man… Education is doing shit in a way someone else thinks it should be done! I gave up in trying to figure out silent letters and how lasanya becomes lasagne! I am losing plot!!! Back to cheating!

One of the women I was dating, Loise*, (not her real name, she might have grown up and become a lawyer!) sat right at the back right corner. She was not attractive… In fact, I didn’t find her beautiful at all. But she was brainy! I love intelligent women! Intelligence is like ‘no underwear’, its like half way there! She taught me how to divide numbers. You need women like that in your life… its not like homework will do itself… That was her duty… Homework. She finished hers and did mine in a different handwriting. I am not a bad person… So in return, I held her hand everyday as we walked home… This, ladies and gentlemen, is the hardest shit to do at the age of 9! But I was willing to do anything to clear school… I held her hand with pride! I finished school by the way!

Victoria* was pretty! As in extremely pretty! But no whiff of wit whatsoever! In fact, Victoria was her real name! Her job was PR. To make me look good. In class 3 looks get you further than grades…. Trust me, IT WILL NOT MATTER IF YOUR GIRLS CAN RECITE THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE BACKWARDS!!! If she is not fly…. It doesn’t fly! This pretty girl coming from a rich family would be a plus… I like rich beautiful girls… Keeping Victoria was a task though. Every Tom, Dick and Harry bought her stuff at break time. My income was limited. I had two companies that did not bring in enough money! MAMA LTD and BABA INC. I had to do better than Tom, Dick and the other one. This called for more money than I had. So I got a stupid friend. A boy I would lie to to give me all his break money! It is not easy tolerating a fool, but my Victoria had to be pampered!

Last but not least, Shyrose Shah. That is her real name. I dont give two squirts of piss using her real name on here! Her family hates black people anyways… AND SHE EATS MEAT!!! Yes Shyrose… I said it! You already know how hard it was for me to put up with this one! Her name went against my Luo normal ways of pronunciation! Sairose Sa! Thats how it would sometimes come out! Her duty was very important… She supplied humongous bags of flavored crisps and chevda! I sometimes used her to supply Victoria’s needs. And just to prove that ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his tummy’ I ended up with this one! Victoria repeated class 3 (was not good for PR) and Loise* wanted more than holding hands… By more I mean doing my own homework… I wasn’t taking that crap!

You must be asking yourself how I kept them from knowing about each other… Simple… Being caught never crossed my mind… My brain was too small to satisfy three women at the same time, figure out how to spell and multiply shit AND START GETTING WORRIED ABOUT GETTING CAUGHT!

So if you are cheating, and you are there thinking about getting caught… You will be caught! Oh yes you will!

That right there reminds me about a story, ‘The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives’ by Lola Shoneyin. Baba Segi has 4 wives! Iya Segi is his first wife who is loud and huge… She is the boss lady and runs Baba Segi’s house. You already know a fat loud woman as a first wife cannot be told! Iya Tope is the second wife. She was forced into the marriage by Baba Segi. She she has nothing much to say! Iya femis is the third wife. This ones heart burns with vengence… That statement will be clear in my next sentence! Bolanle is Baba Segis fourth and final wife. Iya Femi does not appreciate this and works her ass off to see it that Bolanle is out! She works hand in hand with Iya Segi to see this plot through! Bolanle is a threat because she is young and educated thus posing as a great threat to the other wives! Like I said, an educated woman HAS POWER!

Funniest bit of the story is all the wives have multiple kids except Bolanle, who has non at all… EVen funnier, Baba Segi is sterile… Very cool book… was nominated for the 2011 Orange Prize for Fiction and will appeal to readers who enjoy African literature.

You can come meet the author of ‘The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives’ Lola Shoneyin, MYSELF and other amazing local and international authors at The Storymoja Hay Festival which will be going down from 13th to 16th September 2012 at The Nairobi National Museum.

By now you already know how terrible my spelling and grammar is… I like doing things my way…

 
3 Comments

Posted by on September 3, 2012 in comedy, love, my quotes, sex, women tales

 

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The Amazing Goodnight!


Dear Doris,

You fail me my love. Still no word from you. You let my heart be consoled by strange women. I received yet another letter. I could not understand a single word said in it but I was happy. Happy that another woman consoles my heart after noticing the tireless effort I input on trying to make you love me again!

It worries me that we might never be in love like we used… It worries me that I might be fighting a losing battle… But I would rather fight the battle anyway. Maybe someday you will realize we were brought to this earth to spend our lives together!

I apologize in advance, for the coming two months will pass with minimal communication because of this huge project I am part of that is going to take most of my time – and that is the Storymoja Hay Festival.

I am writing today about ‘The Amazing Goodnight!’ I am sure every single man reading this at this moment has experienced this. If you have not experienced this then there is something extremely wrong with you!!

Let me create a scene for you:

You are in the club and see this irresistible woman! She is in a tiny red dress and midnight black felt heels… Her hair is long and light and sways with the slightest move of her head. Her waist is slender and her behind worth an effort. Her eye lashes seductively call out with every blink…

You have to have her…

You walk to her… Small talk… You make her laugh… You pound on your chest with pride on the inside… She gives you her number which you save on all your phones and back up on a cloud incase shit happens and you lose your phone…

You do not communicate for 3 days like the typical male Homo sapiens…

Then you text…

‘Hey beautiful?’

She replies, ‘Who is this?’

You reply, ‘Onyango!’

She might not remember… Or she remembers and is playing games… Either way, you have to explain yourself.

‘We me Saturday night!’ You reply…

‘oh yeah. :)’ she replies.

My friend this is how you tell you are about to get an ‘amazing goodnight!’

She will say ‘I am not interested in talking to you right now’ politely. If you have the slightest bit of intellect, you will, and I stress, end this conversation like this or any other way you deem right…

‘Was just checking up on your beautiful self…’

She might say ‘Awww. Thanks’ or just ‘Thanks!’ Do not reply this text… That way you both go to bed happy…

Things will go wrong if you reply tis,

‘oh yeah. :)’ with, ‘so how are you?’

This is like asking the pope about condoms… He has heard everything on the topic!

If you get an extremely rude woman, she will say, ‘I am ok. Nyt.’ That is 1st Degree AMAZING GOODNIGHT! (It is called amazing because it does not call for a response. It ends the conversation immediately)

You might also get, ‘ttyl. goodnight!’ 2nd DEGREE AMAZING GOODNIGHT. (she has given you permission to try again another day!)

Or, ‘goin to bed now. Will call you tmrw’ 3rd DEGREE AMAZING GOODNIGHT. (Be warned that SHE WILL NOT CALL. She has, without mentioning it, given you the permission to call her the next day)

Normally she will be doing something thats evidently more important than talking to you; like, ‘Have to drive my dad to the hospital’ or ‘talking to mum’

Be advised that an AMAZING GOODNIGHT has no response whatsoever. If you receive the the texts or anything near them, do not reply. Go to bed and think about what you are doing wrong!!

Some men will reply though, it is not like we were all born on a dark Friday night! … Be advised that from that reply onwards, you should declare yourself a slave! You just gave a woman enough reason to walk all over you! AND SHE WILL! AND YOU WILL LET HER!

Signs of an ‘amazing goodnight’

  • Shortened words: ttyl, nyt, gdnyt, slp tyt, tmrw, goin, night.
  • Signs of no efforts to write the text: tk kesho, :), :-)
  • Curt/rude: i am ok. nyt.

But do not lose heart… Amazing goodnights are just a woman’s way of saying ‘I don’t feel like talking to you right now’ it is way better than us men WHO WILL NOT REPLY if we do not feel like talking…

Like I always say, ‘If she had the time to say NO, then she can be convinced…’™

For Brendah

 
 

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Who is the Real Doris??


When I posted the letter from Dorcas* yesterday morning I had no idea what I was starting. I have been receiving letters from people claiming to be Doris the whole day. Here is another one…

———–

Dear Ian,

I am a very angry woman. Rights now my weave is on the floor because of you. Before we go any further, who is this woman? Please explain it to me who she is. I am mad I tell you. I know I have cheated on you twice before, but you forgave me and we moved on. You said you loved me and you looked to the future with our two kids. The 26 years of marriage is a lie now. They were all lies. Smh.

I knew something was up the moment you moved to WordPress. Long gone are the TypePad days when you could exhaust the entire letter exalting my flawless glamor. These days you just mention it in the first sentence then you go ahead to describe the floozies you had good times with. You are not the man I married any more. When you are not stealing novels, you are fighting in bars. When you are not fighting in bars, you are having paying for sex in Sabina Joy. Instead of minding your business in a matatu, you are busy reading other people’s texts and staring at lady parts. What is with all these matatu business, I thought you told me you were about to buy a car? What kind of husband are you?

I really miss the simple diary you used to write every day. It kept me warm, knowing that I am in your mind wherever you are. Where are you today? Italy? France? Venezuela? Or you are still in your all white party in Hawaii? Never mind. You used to start all of them with ‘dear doris’. These days you are using the sophisticated words to replace mine (WTH is enchantment?). Are they really addressed to me or it is those padded yellow yellows she was referring to?

So how long have you been with that woman (who calls a child dorcas anyway)? Charity begins with the neighbours across the road I guess. I must admit that is very smart. I know you were brusquely in her doorstep telling her that it has been a typo all along. She was too blond to realize that she is not the one. This makes me suspect that there are many more. Hell, you even go for blind dates these days.  Shame on you. You are sharing lady parts with 15 year olds. Shame.

I shall move on. Though my love for you is unfathomable, I shall move on. I will discard all those sundresses that you like. I shall resort to flat shoes and throw away those black heels with red soles. I was doing it for you yet you are busy looking elsewhere. Go ahead and chase them. When you fall, you shall find a hard cold floor. We shall not be around. I’d rather marry the maid, she has refused to leave me and the kids alone after all.

The kids say hi. Let’s keep them out of this.

Doris.

Doris are you out there? Email me on arungaian@yahoo.com

 
10 Comments

Posted by on July 17, 2012 in guest posts, love

 

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