My grandmothers Mother was French, Her family moved to Southern England after the French revolution, they were Guillotine operators as a family Buisness, and after the worst had past, they themselves feared for their lives, when gangs roamed Paris looking for "Collaborators" so they all Moved to East London, Where they became Hatmakers...
How Ironic is that, well they always dealt in Heads, severed or otherwise, it is quite gruesome actually, I totally agree...
if there is any Art in me it is Because of my French Heritage, I salute my Cousins today, I hope they win the World Cup, Coz England team are liquid Dihorrea, they are too busy Fucking all night to giva fuck about winning a stupid ball game...
England WAS the greatest nation the World had ever seen as far as we know, but we are Second rate half wit Shit heads now... I look to France to save the world with Class style and great Parfume, fit for a Wake... and Condoms 1 ATOM thick that strangles Sperm as they try to get through, and de-capitates each and every one of them, Vive La Differance, The Chosen Kingdom is FRANCE, the capital of passion Madness and self-sacrifice in abundance... the greatest Mongrels in all of Europe... it is the "original America" in that sence... all comers get born and find a Life beyond belief, as the thief who stole your Great Grand mothers Virginity...
Here I am; it is the French in me that makes me so Asymptomatic of the tragic adherence to Existentialism... and its documentation of the utter insignificance of Everything, unless you have a spark of JOY in your rancid Heart, understanding that Joy of Life is Uniquely Inherently French...
I am Proud to be a Watered down water from the well of Life they Call, La Belle France... My Mother made me a part of you, and am proud to be included in your halls of lost and found souls, beneath your roads,
send me to rest in the catacombs of Paris...
She is My Birth mother - 8 but + 9 in sentiment...
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