this initially started off as a chapter that just had one prerequisite - that it opened with a "kanojo" and ended with, well, "une femme" (preferably une femme framboise, but i digress). somewhere along the line, it took on another shana-kugen-tohno-form which can speak for itself.
bon weekend à tous. get your pomegranate-noir'ed hat on.
... j'ai tombé amoureuse - d'une chanson. I can't tell if I'm so attached to it because of Fránçois' story of a sabbatical, or because it feels like the perfect soundtrack for the grey and sodden weather of late. Or perhaps it's the WoG (read: wall of guitar, dafties) at the end, after all the Casiotone twee-to-a-t-ness.
I shall refrain from using that well-worn laugh-a-minute phrase - "perfect pop moment" - only 'cos it makes me want to gag, and that's unbecoming for a lassie.
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featherframe's journal
cold
melancholy
feelin' sinister
nowt.