Ishtarmani
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
The matriarch was ushered in by a band of utter morons, as usual. The domicile, which she so humbly decided to speak, was a desirous locale centered amongst the beleaguered and the bourgeoisie, dull as exposed brick and banal the likes of exfoliating femmes. Disparagingly, she delved into the drivel that so often fed the…
