there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
there will be ads
» As much as i claim to dislike summer, there’s something incredibly lovely about a summer in the south of france, lying in the sun while the grass goes yellow and the farmer ploughs the field and everything smells of hay, and i go golden, no matter