How do you celebrate the death of the worst person on the planet?
I’ve never quite heard anything like it. Terrifying.
What kind of preternaturally hyper-trained eye does it take to find and resolve in a picture, in an instant, compositions of such visual complexity and internal harmony?
It didn’t take long for the beautiful and perfect Ed King to ejaculate for the fifth time in twelve hours, while looking like Roman public-bath statuary.
Everybody has that thing where they need to look one way, but they come out looking another way. And that’s what people observe.