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magic book - 1st entryLes habitants de la piscine
L'eau fraîche entoure les jambes.
Elle passe comme une brise glacée. Elle rappelle la menthe.
La lumière entre jusqu’au fond.
Des réseaux blancs au premier regard, puis colorés comme l’arc au ciel, glissent là-bas.
Les lignes avancent comme si quelqu’un les faisait marcher.
Elles rampent, se touchent les unes et les autres, créent une unité.
Impossible de suivre une des lignes.
Elles semblent disparaître et puis soudain elles se mêlent aux autres – et vont ailleurs.
Un vent de sable souffle dans l’autre sens ou en travers sans déranger le trajet de la lumière.
Il passe indifféremment au dessus en en dessous – ou reste-t-il à la même place ?
Comme une fumée qui porte des grains, il traverse les raies qui avancent, sans arrêt.
On a l’impression d’une armée d’insectes qui marchent comme s’ils
Oui, je veux bien
Vacances avec des amies. Ça fait longtemps, que je ne les ai pas vues. Surtout Claudia. Nous n'étions pas toujours des meilleurs amies, pourtant nous nous amusons plutôt bien. Pas de tension comme d'habitude. Des filles, dont je ne connais pas le nom mais qui me connaissent apparemment bien, sont avec nous. Le bazar de cette ville étrange et plein de gens. Le temps fait beau, plutôt chaud, ça m'a manqué, la chaleur, l'air sec et des cigales. Je suis à la maison, enfin.
Partout des marchands avec des objets exotiques. On passe par ici, par là, oubliant lieu et temps. Là, je ne peux plus tenir à moi, il faut que je le revoie. Depuis notre arrivé, je ne peux pas penser à quelque chose d'autre. C'est que lui. Mon cur batte à haute voix. Je rougis, si quelqu'un peut l'entendre ? Mais non, c'est stupide. « Je crois que je vais appeler un ami que je ne pas vu longtemps » je dis aux autres. Elles s
Lieblose GleicheitLiberté, Egalité, Fraternité. Freiheit, Gleichheit, Brüderlichkeit. So sagt es der Franzose. ---
I have a dream... introduierte Martin Luther King. ---
Gleichberechtigung für die Frau... brüllt uns die Emanze entgegen. ---
Was soll der ganze Drang nach Gleichheit? ---
Ist es nicht das Schlimmste, wenn ein Mensch sagt "Es ist mir gleich"? ---
Lebt er dann? ---
Ist nicht unser Drang "Differenzierung", "Individualität"? ---
Leben heißt Drang. ---
Das Ziel ist Individualität. ---
Keine isolierte, aber integrierte Individualität. ---
Ich bin Subjekt und nehme meine Umwelt subjektiv auf. ---
Ich nehme meine Umgebung nicht gleich meiner Mitmenschen wahr. ---
Nichts ist mir gleich. ---
Alles reizt mich, auf die unterscheidlichste Art & Weise. ---
Vielfalt an Reizen. Vielfalt an Leben. ---
Liebe am Leben. ---
Mal mehr, mal weniger, aber nicht gleich. ---
Liebe zum Leben. ---
Ich nehme, ich gebe. So gut ich kann. ---
Ich liebe. Und weil ich liebe ist mir nichts gleich. --- --- ---
Let People InI used to hate people so much because they're so quick to judge and betray each other. They'll say they're your friends, but then ignore you or shun you when it stops being convenient or fun for them. They use you as much as they can, and when they're done with you they all just disappear. I didn't want to have friends like that, and I thought I didn't need them. I thought that, but it wasn't right at all. I thought I was stronger, rejecting relationships and friends. But once you reject people, you're stuck. You lose the opportunity to make those connections that define your life. And when you've lost those chances, you don't get them back.
I found someone like me to share my pain with. She's still one of the most special people in my life, right up there with my dad.
Whenever you meet that person, don't turn them away.
Up until recently, that's all I've ever done. I've tried to build trusting friendships, romances... and it always comes crashing down around me. Often because of my ow
Morbid FantasiesI played it out in my head, how it would all turn out, and what would happen depending on which method would be used. It's horrible when I run out of creepypasta narrations to listen to on youtube, because then I'm alone with my thoughts. I think about things that make me sad, angry, and hurt. However, this particular thought brought along not just pure hatred, but satisfaction, and admittedly, a dose of fear.
I was invited to join my "family" for thanksgiving by my grandmother. Nice gesture, but she should already know that my roommate has work, and we have a yearly tradition of our own. Besides, I honestly do not enjoy being in the company of my "family," since I never really considered them as such, save for my brother.
But I knew in my heart, that she'd be there. Because they trust her. They would "forget to mention it" to me of course, but I know she'd be there. And I've played the scenario over and over and over in my head.
I vowed to live long enough to watch her d
Ugly.As a young child, new to the world, pure of it's intoxicating fumes, I remember a tree.
Such an ugly tree I remembered it to be.
It stood tall, creeping a good ways above any of the others, but it was disfigured in many ways.
Its branches were thin and fragile, like the bones of a sickly human, they twisted in retched ways that anyone would think should snap them clean off.
It was pale and grey, standing out among its fellow familiars, never to show the beautiful colors that it must have held within.
Its bark was edgy and course, as if it had survived through one of to many harsh winters, never falling from its place.
And I remember, as the others land succumbed to failling, giving themselves up, withering away, that tree never did.
It continued to stand tall, proud and majestic as that ugly tree could possibly seem.
It fought its way through whatever was thrown its way, fought until it could no more, never failing whatever duty it believed it needed to fulfill.
We don’t know what the world has in store for us and what will happen in the future. We can make all of the plans in the world to be happy, successful, or whatever the case may be. However, with that being said, at the end of the day money is only a mirage of temporary happiness and your success in life will not carry over once you have passed. Society seems to lead you into thinking that if you’re not a big businessman, musician, doctor, lawyer, or athlete than you’re not very successful. But today, I saw firsthand that none of it really matters.
Today, I met a woman by the name of Arlene and she has touched me, without saying a word to me. For whatever reason, I felt a connection to a woman I’ve never met before today and I’ve never seen before today. She was a complete and utter stranger, yet…her story (Or lack thereof.) touched me in a way I hope I never forget.
My name is Enrique Rafael Alaniz and this is an account
Since Facebook Isn't AppropriateSince Facebook Isn’t Appropriate
And ‘cause dA is better than Facebook. If we go to your wall, I’m wishing you a happy (Insert number here ‘cause I really can’t specify) day on planet Earth. Actually, give or take a couple of those days because someone thought it was a good idea to randomly add another day. (Or maybe it wasn’t so random, but whatever, humorous effect.) But in all seriousness, if I could, I’d let everyone know how lucky I am to have you in my life and how I only want to be with you. I know we have our ups and our downs, our stale and our spontaneous moments but they’re all moments I wouldn’t give up ‘cause I have probably learned more about myself during these last 262 days than I have during the 5,943 days (Give or take ‘cause again, leap years.) I existed before you.
I hate generic birthday messages ‘cause you’re not a generic lady and I don’t think we’re a g
Wrong side of the mirrorI can see a woman, watching me through the glass. She is young, in her early twenties, with a haunted look about her. There is nothing especially spectacular about her, but something something quietly remarkable draws you in; captures your attention; fixes you to the spot.
Her eyes are a slate grey, intense and piercing; a dark energy smouldering in their depths. You notice that they glow a deep blue, like the ocean, when caught by the morning light, sometimes even the shade of a pale winter sky. A subtle ring of gold accents the border between her pupils and irises, which hold a faint sparkle of mischief against their black voids.
A shock of tight, red curls, messy yet somehow precise, frames her face. The sides of her hairstyle are trimmed short, not quite a mohawk; showing her natural gold-tinted brown. You could almost imagine her as one of the blond, adorable, cherub children, if not for the shadows of experience marking her features.
Beautiful is not a word that suits her, and de
My HeartYou know you’re truly in love if hearing her name, even if it’s not being referred to her, fills you up with undefinable joy. You know you’re truly in love when you remember how your voice trembled when you called her and read her the letter, asking her to be your girlfriend. You know you’re truly in love if the pure thought of feeling her soft skin on yours makes you shudder with delight. You know you’re truly in love if, she’s not only the first and last thing on your mind every day, but also after every meal, every motion, every book, every song, every breath. You know you’re truly in love when 771 miles isn’t the distance you are away from each other, but rather the amount of roads, bridges, and rivers you’d cross to get to her. You know you’re truly in love if every song you hear you can connect to the overwhelming joy and the infinite sorrow she makes you feel. You know you’re truly in love when you write a story a
OJOS DE AGUA
OJOS DE AGUA
TIENES OJOS COMO EL MAR
VERDE COMO LAS ACEITUNAS TAN HERMOSOS QUE NO SE DIFERENCIAR EL COLOR, ME PIERDO EN ELLOS EN UN MAR DE MIRADAS Y PALABRAS IGNORADAS, QUE ME DICES, PREGUNTAME CUALQUIER COSA Y TE DIRE QUE SI, ANDA HAZLO, EN LA CIMA DE LA MONTAÑA VOY CANTANDO MUY FUERTE, SOBRE CUANTO TE QUIERO Y TE ANHELO QUITAR ESOS OJOS, ERES MIA Y DE NADIE MAS, RECUERDALO SIEMPRE, QUE ESOS OJOS LINDOS E INOCENTES NOTE DELATEN YA QUE PODRIA PERDER EL AMOR DE MI VIDA, LO QUE ME HACE EXISTIR, LO QUE ES MI RAZON DE VIVIR-Sara
Oh, Honey - An EssayWe all know “those girls” who are just naturally pretty. The ones with the symmetrical faces and gorgeous hair, that have to do very little to leave the house and still be considered attractive. You remember them in high school – every town has a couple of them, the head cheerleader, the Prom Queen. Chances are you were not one (and neither was I). As a matter of fact, 99% of us are not “these” women.
It takes me quite a bit of prep work just to be considered “adequate”. Me without makeup is a scary picture, me with minimal makeup is almost accceptable. When I go out, it takes TIME and EFFORT to look “pretty”. As is the case with most women, I’m sure.
My daughter is in the throws of being 14. Being 14 in 1988 was hard, I can’t even imagine how difficult it is in the era of the Miley Cyrus’s and the Miranda Cosgroves and Selena Gomez’s, who every time our girls see them, app
pray into my collarbone
let your snake tongue slither
with the syllables.
i wish for soft-chested nights,
and the trickle of champagne down crystal glass.
poppy-lips, lull me to sleep,
nurse my coiling tongue with yours;
tap my scalp like a silent drum,
and wind my hair in between your fingers
like broken guitar strings.
(serenade me with the buzz of pollen in your kiss.)
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More