The street's being repaved, so all down the block are those construction sawhorses with the flashing yellow lights on top. I wonder what the fireflies make of those things.
Printable View
The street's being repaved, so all down the block are those construction sawhorses with the flashing yellow lights on top. I wonder what the fireflies make of those things.
"...many people must live and die alone, even in Winesburg."
fireflies, street wow so beautiful
bewitched bothered and bewildered
umm... it seems I've forgot to do my homework for tonight class :)))
This website is becoming the quiet little corner of the internet that it used to be.
A dear pet can feel like a soulmate, and when he goes, there is a hole in your heart that he used to fill. I am wrecked.
@ Kemijost: Moi aussi: My deepest and dearest condolences.
:tailor
Thank you, Tailor. <3Quote:
Originally Posted by tailor STATELY
After doing all the work of running a serious vegetable garden for organic food, the bounty is slim payout for all the hours involved. "Support your local organic farmer."
Very true. Awfully sorry for your loss.Quote:
Originally Posted by Kemijost
("...what you write writes you back..." blurted the goblin to himself mostly, then adding "...more readers read posts in one form or another today, whether that be on facebook twitter or this forumland here, than most anywhere, and yet most writers ignore this readership here for their bookworld still, thus I announce myself as a reader amongst you writers here, and no I'm not going to read any of your books elsewhere until your posts entice me to do so now, so write in your posts humans, for your readers surround you as we speak...", but in truth the goblin's mind was more on the coffee machine, where stepping down from his soapbox he simply looked around for any signs of civilization guessing that that would be his next call where the day seem promising at least, adding "...coffee anyone...")
As aggressive outside, so proportionally fragile inside. A soap bubble behind an electric fence.
(the goblin just thanked everyone for their odd acceptance of him, saying "...I guess I repost stuff often enough, strangely it's only then, at that point, that I notice those typos or some ambiguity, subtle or otherwise, which had been there under my nose all along...", the goblin was just confessing, that he often didn't see, what he saw, for what he thought he was seeing instead, continuing "...now another way to look mad in the bistro it to read one's post aloud, albeit in a low voice, which not only helps one smooth out the wording somewhat but it also gains one a large berth between oneself and the others around one...", by "others" the goblin meant those bistro goers again, who were ever seated a few tables away, and who had rightly guessed by now that the goblin is either composing some texts, therefore mad then, or that he's just mad anyway, most probably because they considered themselves to be sane by that default there, or at least sane by some visual comparison perhaps...", something that the goblin was loathed to admit to himself then, and where he wouldn't comply with them anyway, no, just how he hated their silly conformities, so maybe for the goblin too, this berth between them and him was something of a blessing after all, declaring aloud "...me I don't do right in the right way, I do the write thing in my way...")
I love my new shoes.