Playing with Fire_Where Shadows Reside_You Know I Am No Good_Lemon House: Anna
Catalog Guide:
Playing with Fire
'We need to sort that out. It’s bad for customers,’ said the waitress, pointing at the flickering lightbulb.'What customers,’ joked Mike. The waitress got back to wiping down the tables without a response.Business was bad for Brompton Station Cafe. Three weeks left, Mike reckoned. Brompton had just got its own, brand-spanking-new Underground station. It had made the Overground line, and with it Brompton Station, redundant.'An occupational hazard,’ the ticket officer kept saying to Mike, thinking himself very witty. Mike thought the ticket officer was a prick.'Alright, I’m going to head off now...
Where Shadows Reside
They were scared of their own shadow. A line youwww.onedoor.cc’ve heard often when referring to someone scared of many things. But little do you know that phrase has truth in it. Shadows are dark, empty, and unknown. People fear the unknown. I grew up being able to see the shadows as they truly were. The dark twisted versions of ourselves. Our desires, our fears, our hatred. Despite what you may think, they do serve a purpose. The reason they exist is to hold those dark attributes so that that darkness doesn’t reside fully in us. But they’re always trying to escape the bodies they’re bound to. That’s where ...
You Know I Am No Good
You Know I Am No GoodI do not know why I have such a fancy for this little café. The sparse copper burners exude the marginal warmth, failing to penetrate the numbing iciness of the wintry city. The sharp wind whips the pedestrians, hurdling them into the corner holes such as the one I have been frequenting lately. The central, brightly lit places swarm with beautiful young things. They order fancy coffees unheard of here, where the dilapidated plaster walls shed the greying particles as if the unkempt man scratches his head, spraying the dandruff pieces around.Such one usually sits diagonally...
Lemon House: Anna
I'm going to record all this. To set the record straight. Here it goes:My name is Anna. It's December 24, 2016、My ex-husband Leo's resonating prediction still hurts, even though the verbal wasp foray was uttered long before strands of gray and hip fat materialized. After running away from a contentious, jaw-dropping family dinner party a half hour ago, I still can’t shake the bitter warning from 1998、 I will never forget the washed-out glare on Leo’s scruffy nineteen-year-old mug, peering over a cracked car window on Christmas Eve: “You’ll never be content.”Four simple words—venomous stingers ...