hahahahahaaha! Great find. Albert Camus died in a car crash, in a Facel Vega driven by his publisher.
More boobs. Less Emo.
Words cannot describe my angst, now.
Arthur! I bet Camus was happy for the first time in his life, serene in the knowledge that although he must leave this mortal coil, it was worth it to kill a publisher. Gerard- She has two. That's my limit. Casey- If words fail, you can always defecate on a canvas while smoking gauloises.
The Angst of angst! I am so, so Desolate!
Desolate thee not. Consider the angst of the Sippican who has a two breast limit and must thus consign himself to a lifetime of reacharounds!
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