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A horrific bell ring pulls me from my slumber with an inexplicable violence. What was I thinking keeping this old phone from the seventies in service? With my eyes still stuck together, I tap the mattress to my left to check that the sublime creature from last night as not yet flown off. She’s still here, and that fucking phone won’t stop ringing. It doesn’t seem to bother my guest. I make the most of her being asleep to rinse my mouth with what’s left of the whisky and to light up a fag: the real breakfast of all great champions. The sunbeams that shine through the blinds light up a very satisfying scene: the empty packaging of used condoms alongside roses already turned dark from a night with no water, the bottle of Sky draped in lace torn off in a rush, numerous ashtrays scattered here and there filled with buds and other spicy mixes. The hotel room oozes with pleasure and sensuality. I lie down on my back, careful not to wake up missy. My eyes are directed straight to the ceiling and I puff a drag. Life is beautiful, and no, I will not answer that fucking phone.

  • 100% cotton
  • 410gsm
  • Screen printing
  • Secret label
  • Wide cut, if hesitating between two sizes, take below.

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