Do you remember when all we needed was a box of chalks and the infinite pavements of our council estate? Making perfumes from rose petals and catkins. Oh, the times we danced like pop stars on the bricks opposite my house, we had all the moves down.
Love Shark spends her time marking the decline of the English language, battling with her own self-hatred, engaging in quiet but obvious idol worship and writing words about pallid, skeletal girls and their flagrant sexuality.
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