![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eor"And the Infanta frowned, and her dainty rose-leaf lips curled in pretty disdain. 'For the future let those who come to play with me have no hearts,' she cried, and she ran out into the garden." -- Oscar Wilde "The Birthday of the Infanta" in "House of Pomegranates"
