Three hopeful photos

I miss old-timey language. Back in the 40s, people knew how to talk (see Salinger et related), but it’s so… harsh and hollow now. I belong in a time when people said things like this:

“Say, Mac — what’s the big idea? Don’t get sore, see?”

Calling someone “Mac” is the coolest thing i know of at this very moment.

And all else i got is three hopeful photos for you tonight:

The books i’m wrapped up in:

Tub girl of my dreams:

This makes me breathless:

Sleep well, kiddies.


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