There's a part of me that entertains the fanciful idea of a whimsy sort of romance. A romance that merely throws monotony in the wind. One that would jump into a simple life of lush vineyards in the country side of France.  A romance of wine, cheese, cigarette's, reading, fishing, boat rides, bike rides, and making love. A life of simple pleasures that burns the soul and leaves me trembling in it's wake.

Romance... fanciful shit.