Somewhere between Ja'mie King and Jesus.

asperatus cloud x

He loves it when we set fire to food and then sing about it. Happy Birthday, to a good old dog.

California Windsurfing, Foster City, United States

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head; I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks; I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.   And yet by heaven I think my love as rare   As any she belied with false compare.

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