Looking for a Bag
It should be White.
I go into one establishment.
It is in Simla.
Middle Bazaar. Not Mallroad.
I am asking for care. Some call it attention. But I will not always buy. More often than not I am aware. I will not be used for one-way pleasure 'semen' — I need my orgasm. Take your time. Don’t Push. No. Receive.
Now this is the way with the universe. We force the idea of union, but we do not fulfill its request --
No bag pleases me. It needs to be white. He gives me one brown. It is wonderful. 🟤. Disgusting. It feels wonderful. The interior looks well made. A laptop should fit. I touch it with presence. I want that feel.
Then he gives me a small bag. Didn’t I tell you? How small do you think my laptop is? This is Indian men. Even with shoe size they claim — while you hurt or slip from size — this is the right shoe for you.
Brrr. Abstrapolate. These men in bed.
I like this bag --
But not brown.
What about this one in grey? I offer his
Oh ma’am this bag is not so good, his thoughts. He says, "This bag is very good."
I open it. It is not so good for my needs. He has shown me four bags. Zero in white.
He is angry. He does not have one. He demands:
“Ma’am you come in here [twice] and you don’t buy.”
Being kind, I’m trying to restore his lack of the right bag for me. “Sir, I want to be satisfied. I want a white bag for my laptop.”
“Ma’am you need to buy one of these I am offering. You are my first customer.” (U should go.) “You should buy this one.” He gives me a different bag in brown that doesn’t create pleasure upon touch.
Brrr. ‘Abstrapolate.’ These men in bed.
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Author - Nora Hoffmann
I travel the world in Alchemy under the guidance of Master Saint Germain.
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