Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man’s blood with cold.
— “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Under the Beret
A Story of Coincidence and Chance
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About this site
This is my blog. In which I say stuff. You probably don't care but, hey, it's not about you.
