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A girl is dying. A girl who wears bespoke perfume. She wants you to inhale her deliciousness; to know that she is untouched by the dirt, the smog, the filth of your London.
the old stories Pygmalion made Galatea, but this new Galatea made herself and streamed it live.
Some people are magnetic, aren’t they? They have their own force. Others stick to them like paperclips
through their own innate strength of being.’
