It was raining and I had nowhere to be and somehow that Leonard Cohen record was on again.
Today I will vanquish nothing.
Today my triumphs will be small and non tangible, smoke like.
I will start with coffee and end with whiskey, the couch will remain the same.
Tomorrow I will be a better man for having lived today slow, reading, sipping - not struggling or scheming. Just the rain and and the mood and my slight beauaty.
Beep, Beep, Beep
It's Monday morning, ignore the cell phone alarm.
Two minutes later the radio comes on.
Commericals, dammit, I need to change the time it comes on every morning to avoid them.
Five minutes later they will play the daily question game.
Shower time. Eat a bowl of cereal.
White Tee, button down, khaki pants, black belt, matching shoes.
Key in the door, no, forgot my name badge.
Lock the door, start my walk to work.
Scan to get in the door, walk up 3 flights of stairs.
Turn on laptop, think about saying Hi to coworker, decide...
Like a breeze through the willows, was what she was thinking. The way he passed through her life. She shrugged, thinking if all it was was a summer romance, it had star quality. Long walks on the beach, starlit nights, hand-holding over glasses of wine at the little Italian restaurant long after the staff wanted to leave. They had so much together; they had seemed to be so connected.
And then he was gone. She had gone to his beach house that morning, the air starting to chill a bit with the coming of fall. The door was unlocked, and...
"Goodnight." He bid her as they paused at her gate.
He was not like the other guys she had led down this path. She hadn't walked too close, occasionally letting their arms brush. She hadn't turned suddenly, stepping closer to him. She hadn't looked up at him out of the corner of her eye and silently willed him to kiss her.
He was not like the other guys because she was not going to stretch her hand out as she lifted the latch on the gate. She was not going to pull him up the path as she turned the...
The sheep were at pasture, but the shepherds were gone. They had made a deal with the wolves to let them have a portion of their herd just to be left alone.
That night, the wolves slowly approached the pasture, their long canines shining as they approached their soon-to-be meal. Heavy paws crunched against the dirt and grass as low rumbles started in their throats.
The sheep were at pasture, but the shepherds were gone. The wolves would feast well tonight.
The sheep were at pasture, but the shepherds were gone. And the sheep were not sheep anymore. They were...
about 6 years ago, at the time I firstly thought about study in UK. So I prepare the ielts in Shanghai. When I finished the english lessons, I went to cafe shop, listened a violinist's music and saw a cat sleep their, it was very peaceful. however I thought my goal about pass the ielts, I decided to be a hero in my english learning. in the end, i had a dream, I enjoyed a desert island concert.
The samurai didn't know where he was.
It seemed similar to the forest outside his hometown. But it didn't feel right. The sounds seemed different, The air felt different. He didn't feel as though he'd been transported, and yet... something felt wrong, as though something were missing yet there all at the same time.
He continued his wanderings before coming across a wood and metal track. A strange trail, to be certain, but one that would certainly lead him to the nearest town, hopefully to make sense of his clear lack of orientation.
The sounds did seem different, especially along...
It was easy to sit at the beach.
The sea could've been swirling around her toes, if she so wished, she could've been leaping up and jumping over the waves with gay abandon, giggling, squealing with delight as they tickled the hem of her skirt.
Or the sand could've been squelching between her toes, getting stuck in niggling places, to be found later on as she padded barefoot through the house (except that she wouldn't be barefoot, she'd be sandfoot - grains attaching themselves to her skin and not leaving for days - weeks? - on end).
Or she could...
A dapper man bent down and picked up a penny off the cobblestone walkway. A young girl gasped softly as she ducked into a nearby alley. She watched in suspence as the man turned the penny over and over in his hands. That was all the money that her mother had given her for the day and she had been instructed to take it to the baker's shop that afternoon. If she was short by even one penny by the time she reached her shop, she would not have enough to buy any food. The man paused for a moment...
She closed her eyes and disappeared. The notes swallowed her, refusing to let her go. The beat aligned with her heart beat, giving her the illusion of impossible strength. The music grew louder until it was an explosion--as if thousands of butterflies instantly fluttered. She wished she too could fly away. Fly like the waves of the sound. Fly like the butterflies.
But instead, she was bound like the hair on her head. Bound by responsibily. Bound by expectation. Bound by fear of the unknown.