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Oh. Excuse me. That would be gray tree trunk. Now, I happen to adore gray. Very soothing and all that. But the yellow text put me in a snit. Oh. Excuse me again. That would be yellow italic text. This is no Legendary Lover and it's certainly not even Britian and the Defeat of Napoleon. My God, what is the world coming to? I'm so upset I can scarcely breathe. On to the review.
Well. It's gray so you can imagine I thought I was in for a treat. Gray is so in this year. I have a tablecloth of Irish linen that I had dyed the most stunning charcoal you can imagine, and I've ripped out every shred of fuchsia. (Believe me, fuschia is simply fini. If you have it, get rid of it.) Oh. The book. Yellow italic text. La de da. My God. Poetry. Absolutely wretched poetry. My hamster (dyed charcoal!) writes better poetry. My Llasha Apso writes better poetry. Yes, there was an ISBN number, but honestly, I just can't summon the enthusiasm. One swirl for gray. That's all.
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