(week one)

We were like bamboo found on near the Yangtze River. The river he incessantly talked about. He claimed that we were one. Our bodies stood up strong and defiant towards the world, glaring at hatchets and knives with such steely perseverance that men from the city would give up, usually. Sometimes, the blade got in too deep, and we ultimately, though reluctantly succumbed to them. Succumbed to our emotions, to our love. It was I who first pointed out that together we can fight the cutlery. But he wanted to feel, and so I learned. His love; It had the power of sweeping over you like a tidal wave; you never had a chance to get the first breath. We ran around that city for weeks on end, never realizing this dream was what our lives should be; we simply took it as is. When we departed at the airport, tickets printed, my gregarious nature got the best of me. I talked to everyone except for him. And then with a flash he was gone, up the escalator, he was the sun to me. All his bright spots that hurled themselves at me over 4 weeks darkened. I cried alone. It has been one week or seven days or 168 hours since I’ve seen him. The emptiness threatens to pierce this wild, ferocious heart and make claim upon the destruction. I tell him this and after many hours of his effervescent inquiries, that we wed. Today I bought my one way ticket to London, and I am never looking back. As of tomorrow, in one week, I will be whole again.

A beautiful post, but what is the phrase/sentence it is written about?

Purple Sneakers, Blue Suede Shoes, Pretty Pink Pumps, White Sandals, Black Patton Strappy Pumps, Red Running Shoes, Green Mary Janes, what a selection of shoes! I go through the aisles not knowing what I want, just knowing I need shoes. I need all kinds of shoes. The store smells musty and is very hip. Lots of silvered mirrors with walls painted shiny Ebony Black and shiny Lust Red. It’s not the type of shop I would normally patronize. I prefer the old fashion shoe stores with the comfortable seats and the salesperson who really knew how to give good service and knew how to fit you. I like the stores that don’t play loud music. I like to hear myself think when I shop. Oh, here are the shoes! I love them. They are Lust Red strappy high heeled sandals. I look for a salesperson to help me. You know the shoes on the display racks are never your size, so I wait. Finally, I caught her eye and she came to see what shoe or shoes I wanted to try on. I show her the shoes and she disappears into the stockroom. She comes back, gives me the box with my size marked on it, size 7 1/2 narrow; well she got that right. It looks like she never even bothered to open the box to make sure that the right shoes were in them and she took her time finding them. I anxiously open the box to try on the gorgeous strappy shoes. I look into the box, there is a note in it. “Help me please! I think someone is stalking me. I don’t want to be alone in the store and the phone is not working so I can’t call the police. Help me, please! Call the cops on your cell phone.” I look around, the only people in the shop were the salesperson and I. But lurking outside the shop on a bench I spotted a man with eagle eyes watching us. I nod to the salesperson who is watching me, I try on the shoes. Walk around the shop a bit to see if the shoes fit, then look into the mirror to see how they look, and to see if the man is still on the bench. I take out my cell phone and dial 911.