puce newton

a man named Michael or mr plum, purses a perplexing stance, extending one leg in front of the other, like a runner/track star. to complete this movement, he had to eat a total of one fig newton, have his ENTIRE foot painted puce, and be decorated in a decadent cashmere sweater, in a deep purple, lowkey serving yassified grape, seedless though definitely.

to see at eye level with lyla, i had to pull a puce newton.