There was a magical, incandescent glow coming from inside the house on Pine Street. The family who lived within the house were both versatile in skill and hilarious around the dinner table. To be frank, they were a damn good time.
I do wonder who raised them to be this way, but investigating that question might tarnish their reputation. That doesn’t mean that the townspeople are speculative. Everyone within the town finds the family interesting, which in turn, makes them inquisitive.
It is only by sheer happenstance that the town finally found out that the family just had a hypnotic pull. This is a fact that they could have foreseen, but the family’s hypnotic pull was distracting.
Some believed this family was involved in illicit activities, which were bound to ricochet onto them and the town as a consequence. The peace within the neighborhood would be destroyed and that betrayal would sting for years to come.
When the family finally did explain themselves, they mentioned that they had a different perspective on life. They were artists. The muse spoke to them at various hours in the day. They lived out their fantasies and lived life with no fear.
Wild thing, you make my heart sing, you make everything... bleed? The song was screaming in my ears as I was trapped in "le crepuscule des fauves" by M. Levy. When I was turning the 143rd page I noticed the blood on the paper. Crap, papercut! you need a tissue. What a profane way to interrupt la magie of a good book!
"I literally lust for a good wine", he said from the kitchen, "I can almost feel the metamorphosis of the fruits into what's known to be the most versatile liqueur that can bring fire and stardust upon me at the same time."
I love it when he's making his desires turn into the philosophy of things. Everything has to flow from the beginning till no end, that's how we are... I will love you till no end. Cyclical, somehow like the moon phases, crescent, waxing moon, full, and waning moon, and then again and again... keep falling in love with one another.
Oh boy, here we go.
There was a magical, incandescent glow coming from inside the house on Pine Street. The family who lived within the house were both versatile in skill and hilarious around the dinner table. To be frank, they were a damn good time.
I do wonder who raised them to be this way, but investigating that question might tarnish their reputation. That doesn’t mean that the townspeople are speculative. Everyone within the town finds the family interesting, which in turn, makes them inquisitive.
It is only by sheer happenstance that the town finally found out that the family just had a hypnotic pull. This is a fact that they could have foreseen, but the family’s hypnotic pull was distracting.
Some believed this family was involved in illicit activities, which were bound to ricochet onto them and the town as a consequence. The peace within the neighborhood would be destroyed and that betrayal would sting for years to come.
When the family finally did explain themselves, they mentioned that they had a different perspective on life. They were artists. The muse spoke to them at various hours in the day. They lived out their fantasies and lived life with no fear.
—
This was hard.
Wild thing, you make my heart sing, you make everything... bleed? The song was screaming in my ears as I was trapped in "le crepuscule des fauves" by M. Levy. When I was turning the 143rd page I noticed the blood on the paper. Crap, papercut! you need a tissue. What a profane way to interrupt la magie of a good book!
"I literally lust for a good wine", he said from the kitchen, "I can almost feel the metamorphosis of the fruits into what's known to be the most versatile liqueur that can bring fire and stardust upon me at the same time."
I love it when he's making his desires turn into the philosophy of things. Everything has to flow from the beginning till no end, that's how we are... I will love you till no end. Cyclical, somehow like the moon phases, crescent, waxing moon, full, and waning moon, and then again and again... keep falling in love with one another.
"Je t'aime", I said.
"Et moi j'accepte".
In vino veritas after all.