Eye Between Lampposts_Deossification_The Book of imagination_The people you see on the sidewalk.
Catalog Guide:
Eye Between Lampposts
The path had been dark and tangled for long enough that I was beginning to question whether I was on a path at all. My legs were sore and scratched and flecked with dirt up my ankles from the squelch, squelch, of plodding through what seemed like a lifetime of late autumn night. My fur bristled, as if the anger I felt at my own ineptitude could somehow cow lady Nature herself, so just this once she, not I, would press her ears back and show me mercy. The scent of rain, warm and summery by nature, had been a lure drawing me forward step by step, and I found the trees thinning, the darkness no ...
Deossification
Chamomile, charcoal, and candles, half-eaten by their own wicks, is the only way I know to put me back to sleep after a nightmare. In this one I was skimming through a forest of hollowed-out logs, draped with moss and moth-eaten pelt-cloth. I was very drunk, or very tired, or both: my head lolled onto my chest and my vision departed when my head wasn’t tilted up.I sigh, the air rattling the steam of my tea. It is notwww.onedoor.cc easy for me to leave my nightmares. It is like trying to take off a dress that zips down the spine all by yourself.In my lap is a book of sketches. I only draw people; these pages...
The Book of imagination
The term had finally come to an end. Jane was all packed and ready to go home. A home where she hadn't been to in years, since her grandma had passed away. She rushed out of the dorm in a hurry to catch the last bus for the day.Well you see, she was running a bit late. "Nevermind" she said, she took out her list and crossed all the points she had made. "Ah! Keys, here they are."And she was good to go. She gave her mom a call before she boarded the bus."Have fun, sweetie!" said mom. "I think there's more cleaning to do than having fun." Jane grumbled to herself, sitting in her seat. She was ver...
The people you see on the sidewalk.
If she could just wait a few more minutes, she was sure he would walk past her again - the man in the black coat whom she had come to associate with the rustle of paper (because he never put coins in her metal bowl the way everyone else did). He never looked at her either, but he always offered a little smile just the same, with the corner of his mouth; cool as the night breeze when the scorching sun's shift was over. Bright and beautiful as a new day when all hope seemed lost. He would have his coat buttoned up to his chin, his dreadlocked hair would hang carelessly over his face and he would...