Hangovers are a vivid form of vengeance. Last night my apartment became the venue for a small, introverted chardonnay festival. A melancholy choir of Bulgarians provided the entertainment, via a set of headphones that ended up irredeemably tangled beneath the… — Liz Jensen Copy Share Image
“A mixture of feelings- love, distaste, revulsion, pity- rose in my throat…There was an eternity to that moment, that see-sawing split- second when adoration… — Liz Jensen Copy Share
Hangovers are a vivid form of vengeance. Last night my apartment became the venue for a small, introverted chardonnay festival. A melancholy choir of… — Liz Jensen Copy Share
“In my sleepwalking years, I learned the existence of another dimension. I do not inhabit it any longer. But somehow, it continues to inhabit… — Liz Jensen Copy Share
“Lord, What a terrible shame. You're so attractive!' I know, I want to tell her. It should have happened to someone really ugly. And… — Liz Jensen Copy Share
“You plant a seed thinking it's love. It's only when the thing starts putting down roots that you realise it's not growing the way… — Liz Jensen Copy Share
“Carpe Dium, I say. Seize the day. Grab it by the throat and rattle its bollocks” — Liz Jensen Copy Share
“Everyone said that one day I was going to have a big accident, an accident to end all accidents. One day you might look… — Liz Jensen Copy Share
