I sprayed scent like a saga a little too anxiously, left the porridge burnt at the bottom of the pot that morning: oats. Now I am swimming for my life while my sister in another city reaches for her umbrella next to her front door. I can smell the rosemary chicken but I don’t want any feasts.

-Abigail George

Select a background
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image

More quotes by Abigail George