Relief over cinematographic nacre

Out of spite or in a limpid no-brainer de la pure folie, after her golden tanga was stolen by two callous delinquents, Countess Condotti relieved her self sliding pearls vaginally, like a mediometraje of Carlos Saura in Panavision®.


And the beads are washed in the blond dulcitude of some anisette made in La Boca ¡Ché, que loco!



Some may say "that's disgusting and wrong"
and some yet may say "is that human?" But

but

but but but but but but but

but ter. Butter on butt her

but... but we cannot judge people with more mony than us.

Then I do ask you: is she deviating from the normal, expected or established parameters of the cinematography?

Then I wonder why no-one understands what I write.
In fact it's most everything in the color and the tone, in the light, in the montage, sometimes, even, in the rhythm, but almost never in the sense

although the sense is always there, even when you don't see it.


Out of spite or in a crystalline cry wank, after her unwashed tanga of gold was stolen by two erect delinquents, Countess Condotti alleviated her self sliding un collier de perles under the cupronickel of the spotlights, because it's just like a section-sectioned with platinum scissors from "La Grande Bouffe".


And some may say "I don't get this guy"
and some yet may say "... " 

But blah, but blah, but bluh, but bleh.




But... but in this old and fried society.


 



























"No te quedó sueño por vengar
y ya no esperás que te jueguen limpio... nunca más... "