i was local for fall break
so was he.
he asked to see me. i said yes.
we kissed.
he asked to see me the next night.
i said yes
we kissed.
he asked to see me the night after.
i said yes.
we kissed.
what happened after that?
he asks another girl.
i was the local flavor.
A local coffeeshop became their meeting place. She loved to ask him to take a wild guess and order for her.
“If you are actually interested in me, you’ll know my coffe order” – she said, flirting with both her eyes and voice.
He rolled his eyes, trying to conceal his amusement.
The local crowd shunned anyone whom they did not know. Unfriendly to the core, the local crowd snubbed all new comers. Sure, there were a few wandering eyes from within the locals, but they feared retribution from the others.
local i suppose you could call me local but i dont wanna be local i wanna be AMAZING! but i guess i am in my own way. dont you hate it when somebody says your unique because you are you .what a load of bull **** anyway. its sooo stupid and dumb. i bet the cavemen didnt say things like that and i have a book about cavemen too. its actually quite cool but very very dull and boring to read… hahahaha funny funny. lame i am sadly laughing at my own jokes. local i have really gone off topic huh? my time i up…. see ya peeps :)
i am from the place no one knows. the place where deers run, no one hates, no one cares about worries and the only thing we say is ‘hakuna matana’. i see the metal birds, they soar above. but all they do is drop the mountains and suddenly everything disappears. mama calls it a ‘bomb’. we all hide in the watering hole when we see it. i wish there was peace.
i live in a local village. I see heaps of people everyday there is a dairy etc i live near lily and i guess you could call her local and my neighbour, about neighbour who puts neighbour in a book like jesus i think jesus is mean and dumb i done even see or get why he was alive
Where do I live? Am I local? or am I not because I come from somewhere else? I feel so rejected sometimes just because I am not from here, like no one wants to know me. “Whose that?” “oh just the international girl.” it makes me feel sick to my stomach, and sometimes – i just wish i wasnt me.
local, friendly, small shop on the corner of the street full of random, one-off knick-knacks and out of date goods. the shopkeeper is nobody special – a chubby, friendly, middle-aged man in a beard and grubby t-shirt. the local pub is dark and dimly lit, full of similar men drinking ale by the pint after a long day at work.
Local. I don’t know a thing about being a local. Lived in the same house for 20 years of my life. I know the same people and the same pets and the same stores as my neighbor. It’s all the same everyday.
He woke up, brushed his teeth and headed to the local bakery. It was a crisp Saturday morning—the kind where you feel the air stinging your face. He didn’t care though. He felt thankful to be alive and couldn’t imagine a better life. They all knew him there and when he ordered his latte and croissant he smiled and then continued to his usual table. A local at his local bakery—perfection.
Woodstock is my home. Everything sold there is local. There’s no gigantic Wal-Mart or Ihop or anything like that. Just local. Local shops, but also local people. Authentic people who have lived here their whole lives.
local produce is better for the economy
stop buying outside
go local
be local
all crazy and hippie and bitchy
i don’t even know, ha ha
one thing I know for sure
i would buy local
if the things were better locally
step it up merchants
I am a local visitor in Seoul, South Korea because I visit there almost every year during the summer before a new year of high school and soon I plan to move there because it has lovely sites.
I like the local buildind in my city. I mean… they all look the same thing, that’s what makes my city kind of unique, you recognize the place by its buildings and stuff… I guess it’s normal, I already got used to it, you know? hm…
Local trains are the bane of my existence, and also an integral part of my life. My first train rides to the city were magical journeys with my mother, when we would return with bags of things purchased, or full of our grandparents’ love. Now, though, it’s just part of the daily grind that I wish I didn’t have to do.
There had never been a place that she could call home. Not until she was wrapped in his arms. It was then she knew that once he let go, she would never belong anywhere else. No matter where she went, it’d never feel right the way it did there, in that one moment.
I went to the local store… Ok, no. Local. What is near and afjacent to me, you could even say juxtaposed. There is nothing that is local and significant to me. Everything is too far from where I am. I hate it. I want to go somewhere where everything local is near me and of interest and signifucance to me. Please and thank you.
They weren’t from around here. I knew that cuz they didn’t look like the locals. They didn’t speak like us or even move like us. They were different, exotic, new. And I loved them as soon as I saw them.
I look down at my warn hands and think of all the mistakes I’ve made. This local high school, a prison, a reminder of my sins. The locals all know of my past, my mistakes… but moving out shows a sign of hope in the future. A new place offers me a place to become my new “local” a place to be a new me. A place where I could be anything, a hero even. No more a harlot, no more a sinner, no more a liar, a cheat, a drunk, or gossip. But a giver, a healer, a warm smile, an witty conversation starter…. a local.
Don’t dine with the locals, she said, they’ll eat through your brain. Don’t dine with the locals, she said, it would be insane. don’t dine with the locals, my dear, they don’t eat very well. Don’t dine with the locals, Sammy. You wouldn’t like it oh no not in hell. not in a box, not with lox.
Local food is the greatest. I don’t like telling people how much I love shopping local and how much I love my co-op because I don’t like them thinking I’m a big “hipster”, but it’s just the truth. I love knowing who made or grew my food. Should I feel shamed not to geek about this?
I was never really one to “fit in”.
Most likely because I moved here… from across the country. So technically I don’t fit in with the “local kids”. I feel so foreign sometimes… and if I try to talk to someone, I feel like I’m invading their time, or their conversation, if they’re in one. I just feel like I don’t belong here.
I see the local coffee shop as place of serenity and peace. A place to express one’s self in music and taste. Love blossoms and friendships may grow. a Place to grow and be who you are… a place to let go of all expectations.
She looked down with distaste at the thing in her hands.
“Go on, try it,” he said encouragingly through a mouthful of whatever-it-was. “It’s a local delicacy.”
She wasn’t entirely certain, but hers still seemed to have a pulse.
It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t one of them. It was subtle; you couldn’t put your finger on it. There was something about the way she dressed, about the way she did her hair, about the way she seemed to be invited to everything without really being invited. She just wasn’t part of any of it.
Local. It’s something that’s kind of unknown to me. Because I’ve moved so much in the past years I don’t really consider myself to be a local of any place. Maybe if I moved back to the time in my childhood then I would be a local. Maybe not. Can childhood be considered a place? I believe it is. It’s a wonderful time for many and just as terrible for others. And yet I think it’s my home.
I’m a local. A local here in Hicktown, USA, the dead end of all dead ends. I hate it here, and I hate being a “local.” I want to get away. I want to travel. I want to see. There’s nothing here but more dead ends, and we all deserve better than that, don’t we? Don’t we want to be more than a local?
“Are the mangos locally grown?” No, no they are not. Mangos don’t really grow in Central Texas. I held back a sigh and tried to tell the silicone-lipped woman as politely as possible that her quest to be a locavore would not go well at this restaurant.
Local shopping malls at chrismas time are so crowded because people are always trying to find the perfect gifts. some find it awful but i think it’s beautiful to see all the lights and hear all the songs. i don’t celebrate it but i think it’s a wonderful holiday and that everyone enjoys it. i think santa is too fat and he cases obesity a tiny bit.
what does local mean to me? Local means the city I live in, the people I know and the places I go. Local is close by. Close by parks that are easy to get to, close by restaurants and shops. Local is home grown food. Local is nearby libraries.
Local is getting to places by foot or bike. That’s what local means to me.
ok ive done this word thousands of times… im trying to get a new one but cant… ive lost my creativity. farewell.
the time is still going
so slow
speed up little blue bar.
i was local for fall break
so was he.
he asked to see me. i said yes.
we kissed.
he asked to see me the next night.
i said yes
we kissed.
he asked to see me the night after.
i said yes.
we kissed.
what happened after that?
he asks another girl.
i was the local flavor.
A local coffeeshop became their meeting place. She loved to ask him to take a wild guess and order for her.
“If you are actually interested in me, you’ll know my coffe order” – she said, flirting with both her eyes and voice.
He rolled his eyes, trying to conceal his amusement.
The local crowd shunned anyone whom they did not know. Unfriendly to the core, the local crowd snubbed all new comers. Sure, there were a few wandering eyes from within the locals, but they feared retribution from the others.
local i suppose you could call me local but i dont wanna be local i wanna be AMAZING! but i guess i am in my own way. dont you hate it when somebody says your unique because you are you .what a load of bull **** anyway. its sooo stupid and dumb. i bet the cavemen didnt say things like that and i have a book about cavemen too. its actually quite cool but very very dull and boring to read… hahahaha funny funny. lame i am sadly laughing at my own jokes. local i have really gone off topic huh? my time i up…. see ya peeps :)
i am from the place no one knows. the place where deers run, no one hates, no one cares about worries and the only thing we say is ‘hakuna matana’. i see the metal birds, they soar above. but all they do is drop the mountains and suddenly everything disappears. mama calls it a ‘bomb’. we all hide in the watering hole when we see it. i wish there was peace.
i live in a local village. I see heaps of people everyday there is a dairy etc i live near lily and i guess you could call her local and my neighbour, about neighbour who puts neighbour in a book like jesus i think jesus is mean and dumb i done even see or get why he was alive
homely, available nearby. close to home and heart, usually cheap. local bus. local market.
Where do I live? Am I local? or am I not because I come from somewhere else? I feel so rejected sometimes just because I am not from here, like no one wants to know me. “Whose that?” “oh just the international girl.” it makes me feel sick to my stomach, and sometimes – i just wish i wasnt me.
local, friendly, small shop on the corner of the street full of random, one-off knick-knacks and out of date goods. the shopkeeper is nobody special – a chubby, friendly, middle-aged man in a beard and grubby t-shirt. the local pub is dark and dimly lit, full of similar men drinking ale by the pint after a long day at work.
Local. I don’t know a thing about being a local. Lived in the same house for 20 years of my life. I know the same people and the same pets and the same stores as my neighbor. It’s all the same everyday.
Local.
The pain was localized, it was contained only in her heart. The remainder of herself was numb.
She went to the local market hoping to find fresh eggs. Little did she know that she would leave with a tiny newborn puppy.
He woke up, brushed his teeth and headed to the local bakery. It was a crisp Saturday morning—the kind where you feel the air stinging your face. He didn’t care though. He felt thankful to be alive and couldn’t imagine a better life. They all knew him there and when he ordered his latte and croissant he smiled and then continued to his usual table. A local at his local bakery—perfection.
Woodstock is my home. Everything sold there is local. There’s no gigantic Wal-Mart or Ihop or anything like that. Just local. Local shops, but also local people. Authentic people who have lived here their whole lives.
local produce is better for the economy
stop buying outside
go local
be local
all crazy and hippie and bitchy
i don’t even know, ha ha
one thing I know for sure
i would buy local
if the things were better locally
step it up merchants
I am a local visitor in Seoul, South Korea because I visit there almost every year during the summer before a new year of high school and soon I plan to move there because it has lovely sites.
I am a local in Seoul, South Korea because I have lived here since birth.
I searched the entire world and all along he was a local boy. Imagine my surprise.
I like the local buildind in my city. I mean… they all look the same thing, that’s what makes my city kind of unique, you recognize the place by its buildings and stuff… I guess it’s normal, I already got used to it, you know? hm…
I fell in love with a local boy,
He holds my hand and kisses me.
And I do love him.
I want to live here, locally,
And get a local job.
So I can be here with my mom
and my friends.
Local trains are the bane of my existence, and also an integral part of my life. My first train rides to the city were magical journeys with my mother, when we would return with bags of things purchased, or full of our grandparents’ love. Now, though, it’s just part of the daily grind that I wish I didn’t have to do.
I travel to my new workplace everyday on a local train.And it takes about 2 hours one way which totals to 4 hours to and fro. Lot of lo
There had never been a place that she could call home. Not until she was wrapped in his arms. It was then she knew that once he let go, she would never belong anywhere else. No matter where she went, it’d never feel right the way it did there, in that one moment.
I went to the local store… Ok, no. Local. What is near and afjacent to me, you could even say juxtaposed. There is nothing that is local and significant to me. Everything is too far from where I am. I hate it. I want to go somewhere where everything local is near me and of interest and signifucance to me. Please and thank you.
They weren’t from around here. I knew that cuz they didn’t look like the locals. They didn’t speak like us or even move like us. They were different, exotic, new. And I loved them as soon as I saw them.
I look down at my warn hands and think of all the mistakes I’ve made. This local high school, a prison, a reminder of my sins. The locals all know of my past, my mistakes… but moving out shows a sign of hope in the future. A new place offers me a place to become my new “local” a place to be a new me. A place where I could be anything, a hero even. No more a harlot, no more a sinner, no more a liar, a cheat, a drunk, or gossip. But a giver, a healer, a warm smile, an witty conversation starter…. a local.
Don’t dine with the locals, she said, they’ll eat through your brain. Don’t dine with the locals, she said, it would be insane. don’t dine with the locals, my dear, they don’t eat very well. Don’t dine with the locals, Sammy. You wouldn’t like it oh no not in hell. not in a box, not with lox.
Local food is the greatest. I don’t like telling people how much I love shopping local and how much I love my co-op because I don’t like them thinking I’m a big “hipster”, but it’s just the truth. I love knowing who made or grew my food. Should I feel shamed not to geek about this?
I was never really one to “fit in”.
Most likely because I moved here… from across the country. So technically I don’t fit in with the “local kids”. I feel so foreign sometimes… and if I try to talk to someone, I feel like I’m invading their time, or their conversation, if they’re in one. I just feel like I don’t belong here.
I see the local coffee shop as place of serenity and peace. A place to express one’s self in music and taste. Love blossoms and friendships may grow. a Place to grow and be who you are… a place to let go of all expectations.
She looked down with distaste at the thing in her hands.
“Go on, try it,” he said encouragingly through a mouthful of whatever-it-was. “It’s a local delicacy.”
She wasn’t entirely certain, but hers still seemed to have a pulse.
It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t one of them. It was subtle; you couldn’t put your finger on it. There was something about the way she dressed, about the way she did her hair, about the way she seemed to be invited to everything without really being invited. She just wasn’t part of any of it.
People just don’t like places. I mean, when they stay too long and become local. Low calls can’t make a day for no one, they don’t kill solitude.
Local. It’s something that’s kind of unknown to me. Because I’ve moved so much in the past years I don’t really consider myself to be a local of any place. Maybe if I moved back to the time in my childhood then I would be a local. Maybe not. Can childhood be considered a place? I believe it is. It’s a wonderful time for many and just as terrible for others. And yet I think it’s my home.
I’m a local. A local here in Hicktown, USA, the dead end of all dead ends. I hate it here, and I hate being a “local.” I want to get away. I want to travel. I want to see. There’s nothing here but more dead ends, and we all deserve better than that, don’t we? Don’t we want to be more than a local?
“Are the mangos locally grown?” No, no they are not. Mangos don’t really grow in Central Texas. I held back a sigh and tried to tell the silicone-lipped woman as politely as possible that her quest to be a locavore would not go well at this restaurant.
Local shopping malls at chrismas time are so crowded because people are always trying to find the perfect gifts. some find it awful but i think it’s beautiful to see all the lights and hear all the songs. i don’t celebrate it but i think it’s a wonderful holiday and that everyone enjoys it. i think santa is too fat and he cases obesity a tiny bit.
what does local mean to me? Local means the city I live in, the people I know and the places I go. Local is close by. Close by parks that are easy to get to, close by restaurants and shops. Local is home grown food. Local is nearby libraries.
Local is getting to places by foot or bike. That’s what local means to me.
i still call the town i moved from home
local means nothing, its not where im at that matters
it’s where i want to be
the locals are not nice
ok ive done this word thousands of times… im trying to get a new one but cant… ive lost my creativity. farewell.
the time is still going
so slow
speed up little blue bar.