i have many secrets, i find it best to tell them to people i meet in the far mid west corners of carlton, somewhere in between the park and the restaurant. it’s strange that they would tell me i looked nice in my purple sweater because i spent a large amount of time deciding whether to wear it. i also had a blue sweater with rabbits dancing on its hem but the boy sitting on my bed said it looked childish and didn’t want to eat gnocchi with a girl child. i hated gnocchi. i don’t have much affection for italian food. i like risotto because it’s like rice and i like rice. not basmati so much because i find it grainy but i should like it because im indian. i hate biryani. afghan biryani is ok because its sweet. i like things sweet. italian food is not sweet to me. the boy on my bed is not sweet to me.
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