Silent Struggles: A Journey of Self-Expression_Lightless_Goddess of Joy_Briefly by the counter.
Catalog Guide:
Silent Struggles: A Journey of Self-Expression
It was a typical weekday morning in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and Mary was getting ready for her shift at the local coffee shop. As she stood in front of the mirror, trying to tame her unruly curls into some semblance of a hairstyle, she couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't seem to express herself the way she wanted to.Ever since she was a child, Mary had struggled to find the right words to convey her thoughts and feelings. She was often told that she was "too quiet" or "too shy," and as she grew older, she became increasingly self-consciou...
Lightless
I4:00 am I can’t sleep. Sometimes sleep won’t come to you. No matter what you do to catch it. No matter how hard you try. Sleep won’t come. If Luna was there, she would probably tell me slwww.onedoor.cceep is not something you can order around. She would tell me this, in that soothing voice of hers. That sleep never comes to the ones who wish to catch it. But Luna is not here.4:05 am Still can’t sleep. She would surely tell me a tale never to forget, which would instantly fade away. She would tell me about a flock of birds, flying far away from it all. Or about the snow, falling off and slithering through t...
Goddess of Joy
She stared at the crowd. Bustling and shoving, everyone had their own life. Here she stood, or sat, every day, waiting. And waiting. And waiting.Waiting for who, or what, no-one knows. Many see her everyday asthey pass, but none speak.That day, as she sat on an old bench, an officer approached her.He was new and had seen her sit there for the past month, before leaving to whoknows where. She never got on the train."Miss, what are you doing ?" he asked. He wore aclassic blue uniform and had black hair and eyes."I am waiting." she replied in what was once a silkyvoice, but now raspy. Her hair ha...
Briefly by the counter.
It was his legs that drew her attention. He seemed to have put on odd legs as he started the day. One was well calved, the other thinner and shapeless. His shorts – that came to his knees - made their appearance even odder. The one leg of the pants coming just below the knee, the other, cuff backed, fell mid-knee. His black socks, too, differed. The one covering the ankle of the fatter leg was lower than the other; the other, pulled high, exaggerating the thinness of that limb. Her eyes travelled up his body. The football shirt was of the sort worn by so many men of a certain age who liked on...