71 Recent Deviations
Featured: Fukushima Flowers
This Used to be our BenchI walked down the winding path, so narrow and so tedious to navigate, by myself. It was dark, but I knew the way well since you and I had been here many times before. As I made my way farther and farther down the path to my intended destination, I held the picture of you close to my chest. I felt raindrops start to fall down from the sky, but I did not quicken my pace. I only held your picture closer to me. I wanted to enjoy every moment of this walk, for it was the last time I knew I would walk down this path, our path ever again.
I had a hood I could’ve covered my hair with to keep myself dry, but I didn’t. You loved the rain, and the raindrops reminded me of our first kiss. I closed my eyes along the way recalling the way you had held me close to you as the rain had splattered my face and made my make-up run down my cheeks.
“You are so beautiful,” you had said as you gently leaned in to kiss me. I was so scared, because I had never been kissed before, b
Such is life.Such is life. A blink of an eye in the most minuscule of significance's, we exist and exit in the same instant.
What is our life but a blink of an eye. What is a life but, the opening of the curtain, and the silent applause while it closes for the last time.
Are we not, one with eternity, ourselves and you... right now?.
What is this moment, if not a specific interpretation of the existence in our minds.
Hold my hand, while i take on the universe. Don't you think the fearlessness of being a human, transcends tonight? I think so, as a matter of fact I think it so much...I know it.
Rocio Belinda Mendez © 2013
I know myself, tonight.I sit while I smoke on my balcony, wondering how long this feeling will last.
The burn in my throat reminding me of all the times I've been here, in the recent, yet deceptively long-ago-story it births in me.
I write, misspelling. I see the world through a particular viewfinder, I connect with the music in a way i have missed. Let me close my eyes for a moment, and contemplate the darkness in its most colorful state.
I know you, I say to myself smiling.. Where have you been hiding?
Right here, I respond while taking a long drag, holding it, until I exhale clear-smoke-free-air. Now I feel you.
My knowledge takes over & auto pilot seems like the smartest idea yet.
I know you, I repeat while I acknowledge the words written, along with the burn between my fingers. Such is life. A blink of the eye in the most minuscule of significance's, we exist and exit in the same instant.
What is our life, but a blink of an eye. What is a life, but, the opening of the curtain, and the silent applause wh
The Wreckage of TonightThe wreckage of my regrets, washed to the shore of tonight.
Whispering it's secrets to the cochlea of my ear, as white figures appear in the form of haunting freeze-frames of my life, all around me.
The rusty keys –– that hold in all my gust to eternity.
The cobwebs –– that decorate my experiences into something rustic and historic.
The sounds of the waves, waltzing in the inner-keeping of my integrity.
The shallows of the frozen-over icy, rough ocean - anchor back my mind.
Rocio Belinda Mendez © 2013
A fair fever. there is a mermaid inside of me
with a handful of paint and a canvas heart
standing at the edge of the sea
where the dandelions grow;
if i stutter, i'm sorry --
anything tangible can be destroyed, and
i don't want to lose my muchness to
sunlight through an open window.
(a private jargon)
"walk on your own, into the sun,
as your spine arcs back like lightning,
a strong and broken man,
king of the horse-flies, for
soon there will only be stolen tombstones,
december skies in belgrade
and a forest in california, somewhere."
We are a ghostThe thing we used to speak of so late into the evening,
the thing we used to say until we had ourselves believing,
the thing we kept repeating and repeating and repeating
until we forgot:
Well, I remembered.
I remembered what we are –
and what we are not.
We are not
the secrets that we keep, or
the chiming of the third hour before dawn, or
the claiming of familiar ground as new –
not brilliant, not Brazilian, not branching, not blue.
We are definitely not
the idea of what we are, and
we are definitely not
what we think we aren’t.
We are – well,
a vampire on a misty moonless night,
a creature in the closet of a small child;
living proof that death is worse than life,
beast and barbarian with blood made wild.
We are a ghost, a haunting, a curse of the moon,
a rotting spirit drifting from an empty tomb.
We are a ghoul, stinking flesh rising in an empty room,
an affront to bedtime stories, blackest boon.
We are dead,
but we haven't always been.
Neutrino dowsingLove is a brilliant idea, but
around the most placid dreams come
flowers and silence,
serendipity and snowfall,
matutinal silhouettes in
the realm of awakening moss.
When cats revolt,
our darker purpose may
finally become clear --
with child-like wonder
and the charm of grit
neutrino dowsing will not be
our last resort.
Love is, after all, a brilliant idea.
Of candles and consequences. Write, poet: write
of misshapen mishaps,
of the long awaited rain,
of a walk with butterflies,
of little things that fill homes,
of fathers who lose their children,
of the clear resonance of the empty north,
of snow in rain when coming back from fencing,
of a curious warm feeling -- that warmth for you
(burning me down,
millions of years in the making),
of the end of you and I.
The Best Cafe on WallstreetIn the back of the little café, a man in a suit and tie sat in a comfortable chair with his laptop open and muttered obscenities. Seemingly at random times, all those around him would hear him say things like, “fuck me in the ass,” or, “stupid fucking cock gobblers.” It was quite distracting.
For a while the customers had assumed the man just had tourettes, but as he sat there in his flawless Armani suit on that laptop it was becoming more and more obvious that he was in fact quite free from such deficiencies. He was older than most with pale wrinkled skin and white hair so long that it nearly reached his shoulders. His wrinkled face was made to look distinguished by the custom spectacles sitting on his nose. But in spite of his appearance of wealth, or maybe because of it, the man would periodically utter phrases deemed inappropriate by his peers.
He sipped on his coffee and then seemed to notice something strange on his computer. He quickly spit out the b
The OozeThe young man sang words to a song out loud while he walked down the city block. His earbuds were firmly fixed into his ears and his smart phone was set permanently to Pandora; ergo the world outside of his space could have been nothing but a void to the kid. This showed in his seemingly careless actions.
He walked slowly up the street with little care for anyone as he loudly sang whatever dirty words came up on his track. Old people shot dirty looks as he seemed not to care about their sensibilities. He bumped into people while texting some random woman he was eager for relations with, and still payed no mind. When in his zone there were very few things to distract the young man.
Yet no matter his game or what song he shouted to the masses, there was at least one distraction the kid would encounter that day. As he walked toward the corner of Fifth and Main, the young man accidentally stepped in a puddle with a slight greenish twinge.
“What the fuck?!” he shouted as he paus
Late Night SnackI looked at the unappetizing strand in the peanut butter and sighed. My wife makes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and uses the same knife to spread both condiments. As a result, sometimes the strawberry preserves get mixed in with the peanut butter.
I examined the strand for a minute before slathering it along my bread with a thick layer of peanut butter. One end of it was a small gelatinous blob, discolored from the peanut butter. The formerly red piece of strawberry had taken on a dull gray hue. From there, a thin strand dangled. The piece stretched across two points on the bread before it was covered by more peanut butter.
I talked with my wife about it later. “When you’re making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I wish you wouldn’t use the same utensil for both the peanut butter and jelly.”
She gave me a curious look. “Dear, I’ve been doing that for months!”
The PrisonerPatrolman LaFolette escorted the suspect to his cruiser. He was glad to be facing away from the scene. The mess of eviscerated human remains and the smell had been more than what he could handle. Still, he had to face the scrawny, unkept wild-looking man in front of him. The man had blood stains on his filthy, worn, and oversized shirt. Dried blood caked his hands. LaFolette wore medical gloves as he handled the man, and tried to keep him at arm’s length. The gloves still allowed him to feel the man’s matted hair through the material as he guided him into the back seat.
LaFolette stepped away from his cruiser as he took off the gloves. Another officer approached.
LaFolette turned, recognizing Craig Leaders. “Yeah?”
Craig showed his years on the force. He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t young either. His worn features bore witness to the time he’d been outside, and the things he’d seen. “Careful with him. He’s
Darcy Lane BetrayalYou do this every time,
You raise them up then let them drop.
Collecting hearts shouldn't be a pastime,
and like a storm, she will rain on you non-stop.
With a bewitching charm, you made her fall,
and now so far away it's easy to let go.
You don't know, good friend, but soon shall be your curtain call,
She was gentle, so your fate is what you sow.
It all reminds me of long ago,
Before my bad luck, I met one one worse
where I fell hopelessly in love and him tried to coerce,
A story so poisonous I think you should know.
My infatuation-like fixation still haunts me to this day,
With blunt images of lustful sensation and desire,
It frustrates me, makes me feel like red hot fire,
He is the burden I carry, the one that got away.
But now she and I must carry on,
for what she needs is to forget you, you regular Don Jon.
And what I need is to end my crippling cynosure,
and unlike the cat in a box, to finally get some closure.
The Monk and the SaintThe painted saints and carved angels
Press their palms in reverent prayer
But wish for nothing with minds of stone.
Brother Brendan stares up at their masks
With reverence in his heart and soul,
And love forever unrequited.
Into the eyes of Saint Andrew he gazed,
Adoring the face most hallowed and blessed
That light itself is corrupt in comparison.
Andrews face is soft and young, Cherubim,
So unlike the aged face he often bears
On so many an ancient, carved stones
And painted masterpieces.
To Brendan the Saints face was so soft
And infinitely easy on the eye,
Unburdened by the hardships
His life of prayer would bring.
Brendans eyes glistened with deep, deep love
But the Saint just looks to the skies.
Contest Entry: I didn't even get it AutographedI was having such a great day. Work gave me tickets to the Reds game, right center field. My boss bought me five nine dollar beers and a six dollar hot dog just for showing up today. As if it wasn’t enough, I caught a home run hit by Adam Duvall.
For what it’s worth, I’ve never really followed baseball, but I’ve always known enough to really enjoy the few games I’ve been able to see in person. I also loved knowing that my boss was a fanatic, so I took a little bit of pride in robbing him of a homer hit by his presumably hetero man crush.
I remember being just a little bit tipsy while we walked down to the pavilion. I was rubbing my home run ball in his face, he was considering buying it from me for a good chunk of change, and then seemingly out of nowhere everything went to hell.
I have no idea exactly what went down, only the knowledge that it went down fast. I think it was a terror attack, because I remember seeing a man in a black mask wearing an except
TF story/artwork challenge and the sad puppy storyHi :iconsassydragon18: Sassy here to to make a TF story/artwork challenge in this journal (for those who will accept the challenge just leave a comment) .
TF story/artwork challenge is:
Making a TF story OR a TF picture of bad children (or even teenagers) getting TFs for doing something that was unforgivable or just being down right cruel to animal (or fantasy creature) or a person (the person can be a anthro if you wish it to be) Here are the rules:
#1: Don't over do it with the violence in it. Meaning don't over do it with beatings (if it has this) AND no over writing/showing about blood (No bleeding or gut showing TFs including) if has blood in it there's little in it.
#2: NO Mature Content story/art type of any kind, kind of goes with the first rule but still. Plus, it isn't just me who going to be seeing/reading it. Plus I'm not the kind of person who goes to read/see Mature Content (including over done violence bleeding TFs) all the time.
FanFic Pokemon (FR) | Aura du Temps : T3 Chap20 p1
Tome 3 : Chapitre 19 (part 2/2) <- Précédent \ / Suivant -> Tome 3 : Chapitre 20 (part 2/2)
Tome 1 : Découvrir l'histoire depuis le début
Chapitre 20 : Une rencontre empoisonnée
(Partie 1/ 2 )
De retour dans chambre, Shyn jeta un nouveau regard vers le Lucario qui n’avait pas bougé et sembl
FanFic Pokemon (FR) | Aura du Temps : T3 Chap19 p2
Tome 3 : Chapitre 19 (part 1/2) <- Précédent \ / Suivant -> Tome 3 : Chapitre 20 (part 1/2)
Tome 1 : Découvrir l'histoire depuis le début
Chapitre 19 : Un malheureux accident
(Partie 2/ 2 )
— C’était quoi ça ? fit Shyn d’une voix inquiète en jetant un regard vers Aélia
FanFic Pokemon (FR) | Aura du Temps : T3 Chap19 p1
Tome 3 : Chapitre 18 (part 2/2) <- Précédent \ / Suivant -> Tome 3 : Chapitre 19 (part 2/2)
Tome 1 : Découvrir l'histoire depuis le début
Chapitre 19 : Un malheureux accident
(Partie 1/ 2 )
Accroupie à côté du Lucario inconscient, une expression horrifiée au visage, Shyn prit le visage
Firm HandshakeJake finished his day at the office, deliberately late. His wife whined that she never saw him on time, but he brushed her objections aside with vacant apologies. She couldn't, and probably wouldn't ever understand. He needed something that she couldn't provide. She wasn't the one negotiating difficult contracts, or overcoming supposedly insurmountable obstacles to get all parties to agree to terms. A little push here, a little nudge there, working in a high stakes environment, all to have several parties with highly different and even conflicting objectives arrive at a mutually satisfying compromise. He needed his fix, his release.
He engaged in some small talk with building security as he exited, exchanging meaningless words to pass time for just a few more minutes to allow greater darkness to envelop the location. He exited as casually as he could, and walked along the sidewalk. He peered carefully down the walkway, keeping an eye out
Acronymatic No 01I used to work on computers as a hobby. I could build them, I could upgrade them, part by part. I knew what the parts were, and some of the technical definitions for the different parts.
On the mainboard, there were slots to plug in the IDE hard dive (called an HDD or HD) and floppy drives. The cables were wide ribbons, which prevented confusing them with power wires, but that sometimes made them difficult to manage inside of the case.
The first type of card I worked with was called ISA, and it went into a large black slot on the board. Later ISA cards were more complex, and required a longer slot. Next was PCI, which used a different kind of slot. I had heard of, but never dealt with, SCSI; to me, it seemed too complex. As demand for better graphics increased, AGP was developed.
Computers grew in complexity, but I was always happy to know the basics. I could tell the MHz of the chip, the amount of RAM, and a bit of how to work with BIOS to let the computer know how to start and what e
inte supply of custard creams, stared intently at"gee gertrude," corndog mayor said, "why are we eating in a room submerged in brine??" gertrude was busy doing her important paperwork, signing a thousand-page legislation called Harvey versus volcanic volcano man: morality purposed throughout the binary opposition within pan-intelligentsia. "i don't know corndog mayor maybe i just hoped it would moisturise you or something" "moisturise?" "moisturise." "i don't need moisturising i've got, like, feelings and stuff" gertrude picked up their tub of butter. "corndog mayor, you need to moisturise because otherwise you will shrivel up into a french fry and nobody wants that in this day and age" she put on a happy mask, a la a greek theatre. "mmmmmm delicious skin oppression... makes me TANNED. you should try some." "yes but it also makes you FAT gertrude; i'm sorry but i had to say it, i'm just looking out for you." gertrude sniffed and cried out a tear made out of seapunk dolphins. tabby the grandfather clock cat, who was at the back
A dream in three acts
I was at the bank. There where a person after me, and another one, before. We where near the closing time and the bank employee was showing something on the computer to this person. But I came to note that what where on that screen wasn't the comun arabic numbers, but text, in modern hebrew characters. I read the title in the flange of that internet page. It read, in english, "Kabbalah". So I took the employer by the flap of the coat and said to him: - Dude, you are not doing what you are supposed to. You will resolve our bank issues, now, before the bank closes. And so it happened. Then, we all left the bank, toghether with the employees, too.
A beautiful girl of my adolescence is talking to my. She is groaned up, with her hair dyed blonde. She is making a critique of my life. I correct it when I wake up.
So I was a nonconformist part of a criminal organization. Anyway, I was too distracted by flirting with the opposite sex to be of some
[Fanfic] My Date With Cleverbot"BEEP BEEP BEEP", said the alarm clock, as it tormented me in that screech of a voice.
I awoke from my beauty sleep with my eyes fused shut with dried snot, nose clogged like an Irish toilet, and the side of my cheek glazed with arid saliva. I gathered every ounce of my willpower to shatter the indestructible mucus placed upon my eyelashes, I felt greater pain and anxiety than a victim of Jigsaw's trap. After what felt like hours (but was actually a couple seconds) I managed to rid myself of this blindness by tearing my eyelids apart, worth it. Now that I had completed my morning ritual it was time to watch porgo on deviantART.
I started my laptop and received an error for "Not shutting down correctly." I was prompted to wait for what felt like several hours (but was actually several hours) until I was able to go online. After watching all 3 Lord of the Rings movies I had accumulated a total of 15 hours which was around the same time my computer had finished repairing, a hellish wait b
Obsessions Are Like Restaurants
For months on end you hear about how good the restaurant is. From EVERYone. You avoid it cause you're so sick of hearing about it.
Then finally, when the hype dies down a little, you go in secret. You sit down. You're given the menu--which only lists desserts--and you order.
Then, brought to you on a gigantic silver platter, you are given the best, most sinfully delicious cakes, cookies, pastries, etc. you have ever tasted in your ENTIRE LIFE. You eat and you eat and you eat and you eat. You're up all night on a sugar high.
Days pass. Weeks pass. Suddenly, ordinary food doesn't taste good anymore. Meat? No thanks. Veggies? Bleh. Fruit? Not unless it's strawberry shortcake. Your pride forgotten, you rush to the restaurant every single day for every single meal. You talk, think, breathe, Deviantart/Pinterest/Youtube/Facebook/Twitter it CONSTANTLY. How have you lived without this glorious place for so long?!?
Eventually, however, your start to notice that the highs are no longer as high-i
The Devastation of Austrevaea Crying out she held her arm as it hung loosely from its socket. It had been a long road through the battle in keeping her kingdom safe. She looked to her left at the still but breathing figure that spoke of her partner. He fought a valiant battle but the powerful sorcerers had proven to be too much and the young man became the unwilling victim of the vindictive woman’s blast that tossed him across the floor as if he was nothing more than a rag doll owned by a child that hated their toys. She now understood what Commander Worf in Star Trek meant by it being a good day to die. Not that she wanted to fulfill the promise of death if she held the power to protect her kingdom. It was now or never to prove that her destiny was to become that of a strong warrior that secured her place as the eldest princess of the Austrevaea Royal Family.
Not that she needed to worry too much about the state
Norgen~ Norgen ~
Every day, like clockwork, Norgen awoke with the sun. His deep golden brown eyes would take in the morning light while he enjoyed his breakfast and a cup of herbal tea. As he then got ready for work, the man would recall the sunrise in the back of his mind. Each life-giving ray would manifest in his memory, before another took its place, until he was dressed and ready for the day. Despite his innermost desires, Norgen would make the wearisome drive to the bank every morning, come rain or shine.
Norgen lived outside of the city, so the commute was two hours out of his day. But he figured the extra time on the road was worth the clean air and bright sky that lingered over the suburbs.
In the depths of the sprawling, noisy metropolis, he felt strained and out of place. But it was his life, and he had yielded to it long ago. Monotony was his lot. Until the day Norgen could free himself from the tedious coi
True Noteworthy Events #3: Meeting The Most HighBy this point, some of you think I’m crazy, and you’re right. I have my moments. I have ups and downs. I have days where I feel so depressed that my thoughts turn to suicide (though I’d never actually off myself). I also have days where I create in a manner befitting a manic person, though these are few and far between. Through meditation and introspection I am able to brush these off and maintain balance, though I can never trust myself entirely.
I question my mental health regularly, but I also know that certain things are absolute. I am crazy, but not insane. That being said, please don’t judge this story too harshly.
In 2012, I hit my first big slump. In March, I was fired and arrested twice, all within the same week. I wrote a crappy book after being forced to spend the weekend in a holding cell. Sitting in that cell forced me to produce a solid seven chapters of absolute garbage, but it also made me realize that writing was my calling.
When I got out, ever
FanFic Pokemon (FR) | Aura du Temps : T3 Chap12 p2
Tome 3 : Chapitre 12 (part 1/2) <- Précédent \ / Suivant -> Tome 3 : Chapitre 13 (part 1/2)
Tome 1 : Découvrir l'histoire depuis le début
Chapitre 12 : Une grosse dispute
(Partie 2/ 2 )
Une fois ressortie du centre avec tous ses Pokémon dans leur Pokéball, hormis Aélia, Shyn exposa à voix
True Noteworthy Events #2: Meteorite or Destiny?In April of this year, I began to doubt a few things I had always known to be true. For quite a while I have questioned the nature of my own mind, and the nature of society itself. When I’ve struggled, I’ve even gone so far as to question whether or not God exists, even though we’ve briefly met (but that’s a story for another time). The oddest thing I have questioned recently however, is whether or not the earth is actually round.
Take a minute to drink in just how crazy that sounds. As a man who has devoted his life to learning new things and trying to understand the world around him, I was tempted to believe that every scientific fact I’ve learned since before kindergarten is a lie. Unfortunately for me, I’ve heard so many lies told as official statements by governments and corporations, that it’s easy to accept that proven facts are also lies, especially when one of the smartest people I know is firmly convinced that it is so.
For Three DollarsFor Three Dollars
Ignorance is bliss. That’s the expression that’s always bothered me the most, because if one aspires to bliss than they may also aspire to live a life of ignorance. The truth is those who do not seek to improve themselves will never improve. They will meerly exist.
We all have a purpose; a grandeous reason for being here on planet earth aside from what others may say; though many people’s actions will cast doubts on this fact. From a logical standpoint, the actions of an ignorant young man named Elvis would be cause for such doubts. He was not the singer, but meerly a eighteen year old black man barely scraping by with a meger existance. He was standing in front of his apartment building one day when he saw Big G approach.
“What up blood,” Big G called out.
“Hey man, how’s it going?” Elvis answered.
Big G shook Elvis’ hand, and asked a rather simple favor. “Can you spot me five dollars for some rillos a
Hector the Dope Boy and the Mostly Ordinary DayHector awoke in the morning to a knock on his door. The incessant pounding on the front door matched the throbbing in his temples; tequila will do that to a man. He lived in an apartment in a building which is supposed to be sealed at all times, but somehow a lick had made its way inside. “Shut the fuck up!” was his initial response.
“Dude I got fifty bucks and I’m jonesin bad,” came from the other side.
Hector looked at the clock and sighed a deep sigh. He rubbed his throbbing head and looked back at the clock; it read ten forty five. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled as he arose from the king sized bed and stretched, exposing his dutiful night prior. He threw on a robe and left the woman, who was still not only asleep but snoring. “Fucking disgusting.”
From the top of his kitchen counter, Hector grabbed a clear plastic baggie containing a substance with dozens of different, stupid sounding names. He took a small spoon and shovele
But she has yet to accept it, even as the sands of time begin to slip from her mind, into the palms of her hands where they continue to escape from her, lost to the ground below her, she can not accept it.
She’ll never accept it.
Nobody knows the girl with green eyes. Green eyes that reflected the Earth in two bright orbs, attempts to be hidden only failing as the girl watches her ‘friends’. Nobody knows the girl with raven black hair that her mother used to comb everyday while she sat by the window, watching the crow’s and ravens pause to look at her. Nobody knows the girl who saved her little brother from the gang that decided they wanted to play. Nobody knows.
Yet she still presses on, still wonders the street whether it’s day or night for she has no care for sleep. At first it scared her, confused her and she would walk up to passer-by’s and scream, never quite knowing how far away she was when she was so clos
NineShuffling alone in an alley off some dark city street
With clothes that are dirty and no shoes for his feet
He digs in a dumpster hoping for something to eat
Shooing away rats hiding from the sweltering heat
A small grateful smile crosses his dirt-covered face
(How unbearably pathetic in this dark dreary place!)
He grabs moldy bread and sinks down in his space
Between rank wet boxes and a trash-covered embrace
After only one bite he tiredly drifts off to sleep
And even in soft slumber he does quietly weep
In this place where life is nothing but cheap
And any comfort comes at a cost way too steep
Small hands tremble weakly with his body’s decline
This boy who should be playing in the sweet sunshine
But life is not fair devouring without reason or rhyme
Even for a boy who has only just now turned nine
Perception.Our existence is a mere perception.
We are nothing, and everything simultaneously.
We stroke our egos, to sustain our self containers.
We hope endlessly across the universe, subdued.
Call me crazy, but aren't we all waiting for something... Seeking truth?
My now, is eternal; my this second, is forever.
Our reality is interchangeable, our truth is negotiable.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
Guardian AngelsThere are always trials we must face
Whether stumbled upon or taken with grace
It seems that after one, there comes another
Until we must ask for the help of a brother
Guardian angels always stand near
Your cries something they readily hear
Never seeking acknowledgement or praise,
They carefully brighten your dark pathways
Emptiness is theirs to fill
Their embrace will warm the chill
Though you search for help, you cannot see
The guardian angels that know your plea
Someday we will see them clearly
The ones that loved us so sincerely
Enough to give without receiving
Even to the unbelieving
TricksterSoft rain pattered the roof, disrupting the peace while two brown eyes stared out the window with growing apprehension. Jacob would be coming over after work, and he promised that he wouldn't be late this time, the liar. They were supposed to be having movie night together since last week's plans had been horribly pushed back by her boyfriend deciding that he'd be better off by canceling, but he promised that he'd be here at exactly 8 o'clock this time. There had to be a viable reason for why he was two minutes late, right? It was raining, so traffic could have become extremely nasty out there.
Searching for her phone, Lauren backtracked to the coffee table, snatching it up with further irritation. She proceeded to call Jacob, wanting to tell him off for not holding up to his end of the bargain like he had promised her. "Jacob, you better pick up or I swear-."
"Don't you what's up me. Where the hell are you? You said that you would actually be here on tim
The JourneyBeneath my skin, my veins pulse with desire
To know why I am here.
As I journey to find the answers to life,
I sail through the monotonous seas
That stretch forever beyond the horizon.
As my ship sails towards the dry land,
Mountains tower before me,
Filling me with both awe and intimidation.
But the mountains are eroding as time passes by,
Into merely fragments of what they once were.
I move my eyes and watch the glaciers
Melt slowly into rivers.
But even though they disappear,
They melt to provide water for all life on this planet.
You could say rivers are created by glaciers for a purpose.
I ponder those mountains and glaciers as the scenery
Changes to a monotonous desert.
Hot sand spreads around my feet,
And the heat drains away my energy.
I travel onward, searching for answers in the heavens above.
I look on as the starry sky stretches before me
Like a blanket concealing what lies beyond
The world as I know it.
The stars merely pins on a map
Beckon me to explore them.
But there is
Love and a Latte.When you work at a café, you meet a lot of people every day. Those who are busy, those who take it slow, those who just come for lunch, and those who takes everything to go. You learn to recognize them, and put faces, and sometimes names, with the orders. A black coffee for the man with the blue tie, a tea with four sugars for the tired mother with her two kids hanging on her coat, A tuna sandwich and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for the student who's always reading, and cappuccino for the men in suits with their leather briefcases and fancy Italian shoes. Maria from the corner store always orders a pastrami sandwich for lunch, and Peter who works at a nearby office always orders a salad with noodles and cheese cubes. It becomes a closed little world where everyone knows everyone, even if they are strangers on the streets. I've worked here since High-school, and one should think I'd get tired of it, but fact is, I love it. I love to be recognized by the regulars, and to be
Theme 21- VacationTheme 21: Vacation
"I can't believe we're actually in India!" Eleanor kept repeating, her eyes bright with curiosity, as the plane touched down in New Delhi. As per usual, she had bagged the seat next to the window, with Florence in the middle and Torah on the aisle. Torah was asleep, but awoke abruptly when the plane landed. Florence spent most of the long flight reading, or also trying to sleep. Eleanor, who found it close to impossible to sleep against the thundering roar of the four engines of the Boeing 747, spent most of the flight wide awake doing codeword puzzles and listening to ex-Eurovision entries on her MP3 player.
Amit leaned in the gap between the seats. "You'd better believe it!" he grinned, eyes burning with excitement. Beside him was Ayşe, who though looked tired, still gave off a lively aura. Next to Ayşe was an unswervingly irritated, and impossibly tired, Yume Tsumuki, who had been kept awake for almost the entire ten-hour long flight by the hyperactive c
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