Holding a sharp knife against perfect skin is like staring at a field blanketed in clean, unblemished snow. You want to stand back and admire it for its pristine beauty, but you also want to jump in and mess it the fuck up.
Holding a sharp knife against perfect skin is like staring at a field blanketed in clean, unblemished snow. You want to stand back and admire it for its pristine beauty, but you also want to jump in and mess it the fuck up.