Welcome to my digital scrapbook. Wait, is "digital" still a thing? I stopped reading Wired like ten years ago. I have no fucking idea what is going on.
Amelie has no boyfriend. She’s tried once or twice, but the results were a let down. Instead, she cultivates a taste for small pleasures: dipping her hand into sacks of grain, cracking creme brulee with a teaspoon, and skipping stones at St. Martin’s canal. Le fabuleux destin d’Amelie Poulain, 2001