The pipes are silent.
So far, every night at around 8, they start to gargle and clunk like the lava in the intestines of Satan, louder than the bowel movements in the bowels of hell. But tonight, they seem quiet - no water, rushing through them to nowhere. Perhaps my radiator is broken, but I don't need it yet, so for now I'll let it go.
I'll miss the fucking thing in winter.
2 comments:
you mean satan. satin is a type of material
Indeed I do... Damn.
Oh well, no-one's perfect.
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