I was there the day that the idea of nation ended. When the black flags went up next to the reds and blues, the stripes, the stars, the figures, and all the rest. It wasn't just the black flags of course, it was the greys, the oranges, strange symbols that might not have even been human, but expressed a very human idea, "This is mine."
It seemed to happen all at once really, old boundaries didn't matter anymore, people were now brought together by an idea, or ideas more accurately, no longer separated by false lines drawn on old maps,...
without wine, my table would have only small slices of bread and small slices of cheese. without wine, my table would have only small slices of truth.
Bring me wine friend, and ill tell you things i know. bring me wine and let's sit on an evening where nothing is happening, on my old soft couch looking out on the mid-section of a tree. Bring me wine and we'll swirl it around in our glasses, we'll let our noses rest on the rim and feel the vapours on our eyes. We'll sit and let ideas come and go,
sit and...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "There'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead. I am out of food, out of electricity power for the radio, and abandonded in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. I do not know how or what happened that led up to the plane crash all I know is that I managed to survive two weeks on the scraps I found in the plane and a nearby pond. This is my last statement to the world if anyone finds this, I am going to travel north...
Never leave the house looking less than your best. It is this way that we show respect for others (paraphrased from Tom Ford)
We are respectful of your anger, we are wary of your rage - we are aware of our own imperfections. The sight of us naked , raw, unshorn will sicken you send into a blind fury of cataclysm.
So we buy hats
And thank you for the many choices.
My sweet Lord
When I see these flowers, and this man standing here (that's me, by the way), and I see all the men with guns walking behind me, I'm supposed to say that the flowers remind me of a lady. I'm supposed to taste the dust in my mouth, remember my comrades who gave their lives, understand the difference between pride and loyalty, duty and identity.
Mostly, I remember not knowing where I stood with any of these things; thinking that this was the process to figuring it out.
We're all figuring it out, aren't we? To know where you stand is...
You know how people always use that metaphor of how an iceberg shows a small portion of the story, but the ice travels much deeper underneath? I was quite literally experiencing that right then. Both externally and internally. My chest was burning for air and my body was thrashing up against the coarse underneath of the ice pool. I didn't care that my eyes were stinging or the water in my mouth was gushing down my throat. What may have been a beautiful glistening lake was now a dark trench of terror. I had never known what snow was like...
The moon was judging me. There was no doubt about it. It was staring me in the eye like a big pizza pie. Judging.
Okay, fine. Maybe I shouldn't have spread all those rumors about you, moon! No, I don't believe you're actually made of the blood and sweat of innocent cheeses. No, I don't believe you're the one who secretly caused the Great Chicago Fire, or that you tap our phone lines and replay particularly embarrassing conversations with ex-girlfriends back for the constellations. I just say these things because you frighten me, quite frankly.
I'm only human, though. What's...
She'd have preferred the electric chair. Instead, she got the eclectic stare. Why did she always attract the weird ones?
this story is about myself journey. My name is Sumit Rajbhandari. I am from beautiful country Nepal. Form my school level i am interested to study management course and experience foreign sr study and environment .Currently i am studying at University of Sunderland in London. i am enjoying my studies and exploring this country. I do part job for working experience. Hope i can get skills and talent and get ready
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. But was pushed away, rudely by a tall man. He walked in, I had seen him before. Years younger. The features were still the same. He walked straight for me, not hesitating. Called to me: "Jacob.". The voice too was familiar but different somehow. His eyes were my father's, the nose too. But it was not him, nor was it my brother.
He talked fast: "I have to prove something."
I didn't know how to reply, I couldn't place him. That face, I felt if I...