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In a sense it feels like we've open the door to Pandora's ballroom and are left with a refreshing lack of interest in all other men and a completely new appreciation for Whitney Houston songs. Contrary to Groucho Marx, we wouldn't want to belong to a club that would not admitt us as members. And contrary to all logic, we remain firm believers in magic and happy endings.
In art, as in life, perspective is most difficult and perception of beauty entirely individual.
At least Ashton is still handsome and share our idea of romance.