Most people I’m sure have seen the real Lush. However, I would hazard a bit of elaboration. I picture Natalia in a smoky bar, somewhere along the university strip, seated at a table, playing five card stud, a cigar dangling from her mouth, a double vodka straight in a white plastic cup in front of her, fully clothed, sitting across from a bunch of long haired bikers grumbling because Natalia’s poker skills have left them in only their underwear.
Maril, I’ve always pictured you in a Carmelite habit, the kind with the massive wimple, behind the convent’s chapel smoking a cigarette.
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I prefer Gillaume d’Férny, connoisseur of fine fruit.
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