good to the last word.

and still, after all these years, there are few things sexier than a man with a typewriter.

that clacka clacka klink zip clacka clack clacka click click clacka klink zip symphony raises each one of my vertabrae into alignment with jolts of thank god someone still can.

whisky to one side of him. cigarettes to the other. smoke filling the room with chaos. sleeves haphazardly rolled up and out of the way. sweat not pouring but gently beading over his brow.

clacka clack klink zip.

makes me need another drink.