Winston & Rodney_Of Cakes and Soup_The Stuff that Dreams Are Made On_MIRROR OF SOUL
Catalog Guide:
Winston & Rodney
Don’t leave me or you are going to be sorry. I am warning you. Don’t leave me! I ran around in circles, barking, then I ran back and forth sliding on the hardwood floors finally stopping face first into the sofa. By the time I got myself together I heard the door to the garage slam shut.They had both left. I made my way to the bay window and lay down. The warm bright sun would soon wash over my body. I was daydreaming about what my humans will serve me for dinner and playing with my tennis ball. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming sensation of being watched.Watch this! I thought as I sat up, raise...
Of Cakes and Soup
TW: murderwww.onedoor.cc/suicideThe morning light breaks through the curtains in thin strips that illuminate the granite kitchen counter. The remaining light bounces off the eggshell-colored walls to create an even light in the room. The house is quiet expect for the click of the wall-clock. I flip one of the three switches on the wall, activating the low hum of the ceiling fan.I walk to the oven and turn it to 350 degrees to pre-heat. Reaching down into the floor cabinet, I grab a mixing bowl and carry it to the counter on the opposite side of the room. My journey across the checkered tiles is short live...
The Stuff that Dreams Are Made On
“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” I say, buttering a warm piece of bread. The bread basket is almost empty, but the waiter will bring us another. We’ll say we regret ordering more. It will ruin our appetite. But we’ll eat more bread gleefully—slathering yellow smears of animal fat on empty carbohydrates. My oldest friend and I meet biweekly for lunch, mainly at restaurants with ferns whose menus have more pages than contemporary novels. “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” I repeat, trying to look sad. I wonder on some level if I care. “The signs are all there. He’s losing interest . . .” “...
MIRROR OF SOUL
This part of the country is spectacular and picturesque throughout the year. Summers and springs are my favorite here. Winters are harsh though less harsh than Scotland from where I belong. Rains in this part of North Carolina are both sublime and somber. Somber because it reminds me of my village in Skye, it reminds me of my family and friends. Sitting by the window , watching the water droplets dripping from the trees by the ridge and writing my name on the foggy glass panes during the rain is something which gives me immense pleasure when I have nothing much to do. E….M…I...L…..and the Y go...