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Quote by Theodora Taylor

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Theodora Taylor

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“So you're not upset about the fact that I was...tracking you?" He flashed his dimple at me. "Think we can call a spade a spade. You were stalking me." I grunted, not agreeing but not denying it either. "But no." Matty smiled shyly, toying with a button on my shirt. My cock twitched as his fingertip grazed my skin. "I'm not upset about that. Actually, I think it's quite...flattering. Like maybe you were thinking of me as much as I was thinking of you." Fuck. I was on dangerous ground here. "You shouldn't look at it that way. It's toxic, red flag behaviour." His teeth sank into his lower lip as he looked up at me from under his lashes. "Did I ever tell you I'm colour blind?”

“In the words of Jaurès, ‘there was in the history of the red flag an ambiguous period in which its meaning oscillated between the past and the future.’ It seems that it takes its current significance from a sort of semiotic reversal: deployed by the royal authorities during the executions of sans-culottes, the latter appropriated it and began to make of it their emblem (this occurred with the insurrection of 10 August 1792, when the revolutionary crowds stormed the Tuileries Palace, put an end to the monarchy and established the National Convention, which proclaimed the Republic in September). It reappeared in 1830 and, like the barricade, became the symbol of the insurgents in all the revolutions of 1848. After the violent repression of June 1848 and the ‘bloody week’ that crushed the Paris Commune in May 1871, counterrevolution made the red colour an object of fetishistic demonization; nothing red could be tolerated, and burning red fabrics became a ritual of purification and a practice of public safety. In 1849, Léon Faucher, the state secretary of the first conservative republican government, issued a circular letter directed to the prefects that contained very precise instructions: ‘The red flag is a plea for insurrection; the red cap recalls blood and mourning; bearing these sad marks means provoking disobedience.’ Therefore the government ordered the immediate banishment of those ‘seditious emblems’. After the Paris Commune, a witness wrote in his memoirs that the city was seized by ‘a crazy rage against all that was red: clothes, flags, ideas, and language itself …’ The colour red, he explained, had become ‘a mortal disease’ whose return should be avoided absolutely, as we do ‘the plague and the cholera’.”

“The first time you walked past me before I interrupted your lunch date with your father I stared at your ass the whole time you were stomping away. And I couldn't help but wonder what kind of panties you had on. That's all I thought about the the entire time you were in the restroom. Were you a thong girl? Were you going commando? Because I didn't see an outline in your jeans that hinted you were wearing normal panties.”