I sat in the booth with him…oh so many years ago. I know that we had gone very seperate paths, yet we remained friends. Today I reside in Michigan, he in California. I hope my lovely first love is well… funny what a booth will remind you of
I sat in the booth waiting for the girl that would never come to see me. I loved her so, but she could not ever have known. For she did not truely exist. She was but a fictional character. It is hypocritical of me to fantasize over her as i do because I tell others to “get real” when they do something similar. Everyone knows those obsessive Twilight fangirls and how annoying they are, but I could not help feel the same helpless desire that I despised to see in others.
I slunk, as usual, into the left-hand side of the sinking booth. I hated that i only had ten, waning minutes to devour the same chicken i had eaten there for weeks. I wasn’t truly tired of the chicken- it was always surprisingly delicious, even to the conditioned pallet. I was tired, verily, of the booth. It slumped beneath my weight as it had the weight of others- heavier others- and I did not like to slump for such a short amount of time. I checked the clock. Ten minutes were lost, minutes I could never understand while I held them. When i clocked out at 9:03, more than a part of me wondered how long i could continue letting those minutes slip into the unworthy hands of the fast-food industry. More than a part of me knew I would never change a thing.
Ensconced within the seating booth, Larry took a drag on his cigarette and blew out the smoke in one long swirl. He picked up his coffee, it was black, strong, just how he liked it. Where is that dame? he thought. “She’d better have the money on her,” he muttered under his breath.
Here there are no booths. It’s not that there is confidence in the guy next door, but there is confidence that privacy is a thing that is a luxury. When you speak to someone in public, you do in the whole sense of the word.
i think of a telephone booth. there is a movie about a guy stuck in a telephone booth and he has a shooter on the phone that is telling him if he leaves he will shoot him. also, i think of phantom tollbooth. i haven’t read it, but i think i would like it. i think of john wilkes booth, who shot abraham lincoln in the theater. I think there are different kinds of booths.
I’m sitting in a telephone booth, no… standing… Just standing there, waiting for a phone call. Will it ever ring? And who will be on the other line? Who’s voice am I going to hear next? Am I allowed to speak back when answering the phone?? Will they know me? Will they know my story? Will I know theirs?
The word booth has two o’s in it and makes me think of a pair of eyes. Booth makes me think of ice cream and carnivals and fairs. I think of kids playing
Alone in a phone booth with the rain pouring down around you. Rivulets are streaming down the glass as it starts to steam up. There is no change in your pocket but you have to make that call.
i love to sit in booths rather than tables. they are more personal and you can’t hear what other people are talking about in the other booths. i would prefer a booth over anything. they are more comfortable to me than anything. the one thing i don’t like the fact that you have to continuously get up when ever anyone wants in or out.
I like to sit in a booth, at crowded restaurants, when i can’t stop thinking of anyone or anything else. it helps make me feel at peace with the world. things dont feel as lonely in a booth, even if i am alone. it almost feels like booths are places where people can come together. and belong. booths are great. and make me feel great.
Restaurant booths are probably full of stories that a lot of us will never get to hear.
They have seen things that some of us never will.
Proposals, awkward first dates, food spills, family gatherings, baby puke..
If these booths could talk..
Living life in a photo booth. 4 chances to make the best impression. Put on a smile for the camera. No one has to know what you’re like between the flashes. Give ’em a show.
they sit there finding their place in the lowlighted reverie of clinking mugs chipped in the handle and the tinkling of silverware tarnished. they sit there and find their peace. they sit there together yet separate.
“What booth is it again?” Matty knew she was supposed to meet the man her Grandfather said would save her in the cafe south of the tracks. But other than that, she was relying on her incomplete memory of their past conversation from three years before.
the booth was checkered and a little worn, with tape holding it together. But it was their booth. They had been coming to this little diner on the corner every Friday since they first met, 5 years ago. Five years….had it really been that long? Seemed like yesterday, and was just a easy being together now than it was then.
The booth was full of flowers. I had no idea who had sent them or why, but I knew right away that they were from someone who didn’t know me well. Flowers die. Love dies. People die. Flowers are reminders of the end of life.
She sat down in the booth, smiling across at him. He returned the smile and reached out to clasp her hand in his.
“You know, I love you.” He said. Her smile widened.
“Yeah, I know.” She paused, “I love you too, of course!” He laughed.
I’m glad he chose a booth. I likes booths better than tables. But since it was our first date, I didn’t want to seem too assertive. I’m glad he spoke up…and chose a booth. :)
there was a man by the booth on the train car next to me, leaning, swarthy. yes swarthy comes to mind. sometimes i wish i had a swarthy characteristic, but i’m vanilla and swarthy is more chocolate. booths of leather that stick to my thighs. they’re too sticky.
She sat down in the last booth, the one in the corner, the one they always sat at and she waited. They would be there. They had to be there. She needed to believe that they would all be there, together one last time.
I prefer a booth over a table at restaurants. It feels more intimate and comfortable. It’s as if you are at the restaurant for much more than just to eat. You’re there to converse with someone you care about.
the booth in the car is the one that really makes makes me happy when ever I decide to show up, I never try to hide the way I feel when I see it I just think there is a reason for her to sit there. the day the booth is gone I will miss it
I sat in the booth with you waiting for my fish and chips to come. Just please hurry up I thought, I need to have something, some food to stuff my mouth with. So I don’t have to say I love you back, so I have an excuse.
The word booth reminds me of when me and my soldier right before his deployment were taking the strip photos in the mall and when we were sitting in the IHOP booth making funny faces and just laughing! Booth also reminds me of going on carnival rides laughing and taking crazy photos. Booth; great memories!
I am sitting in a booth in a dark restaurant. This symbolizes both my relationship with the outside environment and my separation from it. The booth is glass, so I can see out, but ultimately does not allow my escape. A delicious meal is to come, for my dining partner and I, two people in a sea of others.
Whenever I am at a restaurant, I always want the booth. Today, I was angry when I didn’t get a booth because I know the people behind me probably don’t work as hard as I do and don’t deserve the nicer table.
It was a ticket booth like no other. No one inside, only a small mechanical figure that smiled when I approached. “Up for a show?”, it wondered. I nodded. “Of course.”
phone booth the movie about a gunman trying to kill a man who is trapped inside. if he hangs up, he dies. poor fellow never had a chance, went to make a phone call and now he is fending for his life. Poor bloke has it rough. I think society can learn from him. In crisis he grew stronger. America will stay strong!
toll booth. you sit in a booth at a restaurant if you dont hae a friend in a wheelchair. they can only hold about 6 people then you woukd just be too crowded. i think they are mostly red but could be other colors too. john wilkes booth was killed because of a production at fords theater.
I often thought about renting a booth in a flea market and trying to sell some of my things. But I always have a hard time when it comes to deciding whether to part with them or not.
I saw him at the diner booth. the booth he sits at every morning. same cup of black coffee and same order of pie. Who eats pie for breakfast? I think thats when my fascination first started. the stupid pie. Then it was the way he always scratches his head when hes reading the paper. its so annoying. and he never finishes his coffee.
i sit in the booth
at this lovely dinner
on my way home
from sanctuary
i have been apart for so long
i now am joyful to come home
for once, joyful to come home.
I sat in the booth with him…oh so many years ago. I know that we had gone very seperate paths, yet we remained friends. Today I reside in Michigan, he in California. I hope my lovely first love is well… funny what a booth will remind you of
I sat in the booth waiting for the girl that would never come to see me. I loved her so, but she could not ever have known. For she did not truely exist. She was but a fictional character. It is hypocritical of me to fantasize over her as i do because I tell others to “get real” when they do something similar. Everyone knows those obsessive Twilight fangirls and how annoying they are, but I could not help feel the same helpless desire that I despised to see in others.
I slunk, as usual, into the left-hand side of the sinking booth. I hated that i only had ten, waning minutes to devour the same chicken i had eaten there for weeks. I wasn’t truly tired of the chicken- it was always surprisingly delicious, even to the conditioned pallet. I was tired, verily, of the booth. It slumped beneath my weight as it had the weight of others- heavier others- and I did not like to slump for such a short amount of time. I checked the clock. Ten minutes were lost, minutes I could never understand while I held them. When i clocked out at 9:03, more than a part of me wondered how long i could continue letting those minutes slip into the unworthy hands of the fast-food industry. More than a part of me knew I would never change a thing.
Ensconced within the seating booth, Larry took a drag on his cigarette and blew out the smoke in one long swirl. He picked up his coffee, it was black, strong, just how he liked it. Where is that dame? he thought. “She’d better have the money on her,” he muttered under his breath.
booth. nooth. tooth.looth.footh.wooth.cooth.gooth.sooth,nooth.jooth.vooth.dooth.pooth,mooth.r
Here there are no booths. It’s not that there is confidence in the guy next door, but there is confidence that privacy is a thing that is a luxury. When you speak to someone in public, you do in the whole sense of the word.
i think of a telephone booth. there is a movie about a guy stuck in a telephone booth and he has a shooter on the phone that is telling him if he leaves he will shoot him. also, i think of phantom tollbooth. i haven’t read it, but i think i would like it. i think of john wilkes booth, who shot abraham lincoln in the theater. I think there are different kinds of booths.
I’m sitting in a telephone booth, no… standing… Just standing there, waiting for a phone call. Will it ever ring? And who will be on the other line? Who’s voice am I going to hear next? Am I allowed to speak back when answering the phone?? Will they know me? Will they know my story? Will I know theirs?
The word booth has two o’s in it and makes me think of a pair of eyes. Booth makes me think of ice cream and carnivals and fairs. I think of kids playing
Alone in a phone booth with the rain pouring down around you. Rivulets are streaming down the glass as it starts to steam up. There is no change in your pocket but you have to make that call.
i love to sit in booths rather than tables. they are more personal and you can’t hear what other people are talking about in the other booths. i would prefer a booth over anything. they are more comfortable to me than anything. the one thing i don’t like the fact that you have to continuously get up when ever anyone wants in or out.
I like to sit in a booth, at crowded restaurants, when i can’t stop thinking of anyone or anything else. it helps make me feel at peace with the world. things dont feel as lonely in a booth, even if i am alone. it almost feels like booths are places where people can come together. and belong. booths are great. and make me feel great.
Restaurant booths are probably full of stories that a lot of us will never get to hear.
They have seen things that some of us never will.
Proposals, awkward first dates, food spills, family gatherings, baby puke..
If these booths could talk..
Living life in a photo booth. 4 chances to make the best impression. Put on a smile for the camera. No one has to know what you’re like between the flashes. Give ’em a show.
they sit there finding their place in the lowlighted reverie of clinking mugs chipped in the handle and the tinkling of silverware tarnished. they sit there and find their peace. they sit there together yet separate.
“What booth is it again?” Matty knew she was supposed to meet the man her Grandfather said would save her in the cafe south of the tracks. But other than that, she was relying on her incomplete memory of their past conversation from three years before.
the booth was checkered and a little worn, with tape holding it together. But it was their booth. They had been coming to this little diner on the corner every Friday since they first met, 5 years ago. Five years….had it really been that long? Seemed like yesterday, and was just a easy being together now than it was then.
The booth was full of flowers. I had no idea who had sent them or why, but I knew right away that they were from someone who didn’t know me well. Flowers die. Love dies. People die. Flowers are reminders of the end of life.
She sat down in the booth, smiling across at him. He returned the smile and reached out to clasp her hand in his.
“You know, I love you.” He said. Her smile widened.
“Yeah, I know.” She paused, “I love you too, of course!” He laughed.
A phone booth is something that everyone can relate too.
You place a call
You end your call
And you leave unsatisfied
and thats that.
Photo booth, the fun application on macs, lets us realize how vain we really are.
I’m glad he chose a booth. I likes booths better than tables. But since it was our first date, I didn’t want to seem too assertive. I’m glad he spoke up…and chose a booth. :)
there was a man by the booth on the train car next to me, leaning, swarthy. yes swarthy comes to mind. sometimes i wish i had a swarthy characteristic, but i’m vanilla and swarthy is more chocolate. booths of leather that stick to my thighs. they’re too sticky.
She sat down in the last booth, the one in the corner, the one they always sat at and she waited. They would be there. They had to be there. She needed to believe that they would all be there, together one last time.
Once upon a time, I was brutally attacked by a nun. She locked me in a telephone booth.
telephone
london
dirty
closed space
diner
small
red
old
I prefer a booth over a table at restaurants. It feels more intimate and comfortable. It’s as if you are at the restaurant for much more than just to eat. You’re there to converse with someone you care about.
the booth in the car is the one that really makes makes me happy when ever I decide to show up, I never try to hide the way I feel when I see it I just think there is a reason for her to sit there. the day the booth is gone I will miss it
I sat in the booth with you waiting for my fish and chips to come. Just please hurry up I thought, I need to have something, some food to stuff my mouth with. So I don’t have to say I love you back, so I have an excuse.
The word booth reminds me of when me and my soldier right before his deployment were taking the strip photos in the mall and when we were sitting in the IHOP booth making funny faces and just laughing! Booth also reminds me of going on carnival rides laughing and taking crazy photos. Booth; great memories!
its a dark night in a city cars whizz by its raining theres light reflections on the street i step in make a call …. cry
I am sitting in a booth in a dark restaurant. This symbolizes both my relationship with the outside environment and my separation from it. The booth is glass, so I can see out, but ultimately does not allow my escape. A delicious meal is to come, for my dining partner and I, two people in a sea of others.
Whenever I am at a restaurant, I always want the booth. Today, I was angry when I didn’t get a booth because I know the people behind me probably don’t work as hard as I do and don’t deserve the nicer table.
It was a ticket booth like no other. No one inside, only a small mechanical figure that smiled when I approached. “Up for a show?”, it wondered. I nodded. “Of course.”
phone booth the movie about a gunman trying to kill a man who is trapped inside. if he hangs up, he dies. poor fellow never had a chance, went to make a phone call and now he is fending for his life. Poor bloke has it rough. I think society can learn from him. In crisis he grew stronger. America will stay strong!
A small place. Could be anything. Phone booth, photo booth. Kissing booth. All I know is that it’s cramped. I don’t have a thing for little space.
toll booth. you sit in a booth at a restaurant if you dont hae a friend in a wheelchair. they can only hold about 6 people then you woukd just be too crowded. i think they are mostly red but could be other colors too. john wilkes booth was killed because of a production at fords theater.
I often thought about renting a booth in a flea market and trying to sell some of my things. But I always have a hard time when it comes to deciding whether to part with them or not.
I saw him at the diner booth. the booth he sits at every morning. same cup of black coffee and same order of pie. Who eats pie for breakfast? I think thats when my fascination first started. the stupid pie. Then it was the way he always scratches his head when hes reading the paper. its so annoying. and he never finishes his coffee.
i sit in the booth
at this lovely dinner
on my way home
from sanctuary
i have been apart for so long
i now am joyful to come home
for once, joyful to come home.