We return once more to the subject of nudes, tasteful and otherwise. I suppose that combined with the right decor (drippy candles in straw-covered Chianti bottles, swathes of heavy velvet drapes and romantic lighting) the above oeuvre might have a certain camp appeal.
The water-stained wallpaper and fleabag furniture makes me feel like I'm trapped in a Charles Bukowski novel and the only way out is through the bottom of a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
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