This is where I dream of writing my texts swinging in a hammock, or at least, in style, in a vintage rocking chair. Having my prohibited coffees, my full-of-callories creamy-cinnamon milky&foamy or cointreau-spiced cofee, the almond cake, the chocolate sponge, virginia wolfe and comics, rahmaninov and the cure, thick, fulltexture, coloured napkins, a light sunny breeze or a warm cashmere blanket and a window open to the freezing cold dawn. Images found here and here as they say, the rocking chair to give as present to a retiring friend.
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