I aspire to all these lofty goals, but maybe i just end up spending my time locked up in a loft, above the bustle and kitchen, alone with my plate of cheese slices and apples and big dusty windows eye level to the mountains. Aren’t we fancy.
she can see through the wooden beams of the railing. he’s sitting on the carpeted floor. he’s looking at her too. and though they are barely 12 feet apart it feels like miles. she’s hovering near the ceiling, itching to get out of this claustrophobic town, while he idly intertwines his fingers with the frayed ends of the carpets. she’s afraid he’ll never want to leave
It was a beautiful loft. Always kind, generous, never drafty. It gave us our own little space to be together, to be just us. Forever under the stars, naked, vulnerable. Us. Together.
There was an empty loft in the middle of New York City that had to be furnished from IKEA and we went and we found these amazing sheets and matching pillows and a futon and we got all of it for under one hundred dollars and the loft looked something like a J. Crew. And it didn’t matter that the loft was really big because there was such beautiful furniture and everybody wanted to party there.
he wanted to be an astronaut. it was a lofty achievement. day in and day out, he was mocked all of his life. but when he stuck our flag into that unimaginable surface he knew his dreams had been fulfilled.
it’s high and quiet. always warmer. Safe and tall. I was in a loft in Mammoth, it was nice. I shared it with my sister, and cousin. We were secluded from everyone, we had secrets.
i own a loft in ny city. i love it. it is the shit. i smoke weed and create. i write i paint i draw. i love. i live the life i want to live in my loft. and it is good.
Being in the loft always immediately brought his mind to Laura Croft: Tomb Raider. Well, to be fair, a lot of things immediately brought her to his mind.
Quiet, secluded, it’s a haven. Warmer than most places, and often quieter. You look down upon people, spying, in a sense. A childs playground, a teenagers seclusion.
it was a bedroom there laying on the skies it fell above where the doves flew above us. So siliently so swiftly there goes another heartbeat of mines. As the loft fell quickly to the floor I went there and that is where my eyes woke up to the sun.
Hay. Lofts are full of hay, and hay always smells sweet in books. And they always have a big rope swing. I remember reading about a loft with a swing in Charlotte’s Web, and imagining so many lofts, that for a moment, I thought it was a real memory, instead of just a thought about a loft.
The wind blew heavily as she sat down at her messy desk. Crumpled bits of paper flew everywhere as she grabbed her chewed-down pen and hastily began to scrawl on the smooth surface of her palm.
My retreat is a small loft on the eastern edge of the lake. A spiral staircase leads up to the top where I’m greeted by a touch of home in simple elegance perfect for a weekend getaway. Vines line the ceiling with white lights, while candlelight aromas fill the air and I’m taken away into the quiet stillness of it all.
She was laying on her bed. She fidgeted with her keys in her hands and looked up at me to ask what I was thinking. I told her I had nothing on my mind. Her ceilings were low and her eyes were wide and beginning to well.
I saw the man in the loft. He was grizzled and old, his hair matted and shaggy, hanging about his shoulders. He smiled at me, though his teeth were yellow. HIs eyes blazed into mine as I watched him. Nothing could have been as demented as this twisted mockery of a grin.
In the loft was the bed, and in the bed was my old, dusty teddy bear. I hadn’t seen her in years, and I hugged her to me, only to have her stuffing drift down over the edge of the loft onto the dusty floor below. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
I saw the man in the loft. His hair was matted and his eyes flew throughout the room as he entered. THey fixed on me. His grimace told me his whole story. Nothing about this man was normal. He had never known love or friendship, and least of all, he never knew himself.
If I had known it would be so cramped, I would of pursued a different stead. I found myself pacing about and realizing I’m finally in a new place. It was a small stead, but it was were I would be sleeping and creating for the next 4 years. But it’s what I wanted anyways; a small, minimalistic stead for my creative endeavors and citylife pursuits. My life was advancing and slowing down at the same time. What was next?
they lay together in the loft above the hay. he looked down at her as the dust settled, watching her through the rays of the morning light. she was more beautiful now than she ever was before. she was his love and he was hers. nothing could wrong between them
The loft was so high, so unattainable. It had a kind of mysterious beauty you only find in things you truly love, in things you are really afraid of losing. I wanted to know more. I had so many memories here, but this was not enough for me. I wanted to know everything there was to know. Impossible.
I wish I lived in a loft in downtown Chicago. One with a bedroom that had exposed brick on the walls. Then I could invite women over and press their backs against the cold brick as I ravished them. Windows from floor to ceiling would be nice as well, and then the whole city would be privy to my exploits.
Sifting through my boxes – which usually hate doing – I actually felt light at heart. I looked around my new apartment and I was thrilled! I love a small, simple space. I like being able to set it up and have the only walls be made of organizational changes. Who needs a one bedroom or two bedrooms place?
I was bent over my worktable, in my loft, where it was quite secluded, when I heard the sound. The front door closing softly, muted as if someone were trying to make the sound unnoticeable. I didn’t know who it could be. I lived alone.
..as i sat in the loft of the b&b looking at the vancouver skyline,i realized just how much of my life i had wasted bemoaning you.from now on,when i think of you,i will set the thought free,and be free of you
I have no idea what a loft really means. It could be a piece of bread or the place people live in cities. What would be the difference between a loft and an apartment? and why would you call a bread piece loft?
I slowly climb the stairs to the tiny loft above the garage. I take in a deep breath of the sweet, musty air, thick and warm from the summer heat. I see you standing in the middle of the room. Your lopsided smile makes me weak and my heart skips a beat.
“There’s a loft where I’d always hide when my parents used to fight. Like it protected me from the danger of the world.” The kid chuckled, “That was a lie.”
I aspire to all these lofty goals, but maybe i just end up spending my time locked up in a loft, above the bustle and kitchen, alone with my plate of cheese slices and apples and big dusty windows eye level to the mountains. Aren’t we fancy.
By Tyler Ann Klein URL on 08.29.2010
she can see through the wooden beams of the railing. he’s sitting on the carpeted floor. he’s looking at her too. and though they are barely 12 feet apart it feels like miles. she’s hovering near the ceiling, itching to get out of this claustrophobic town, while he idly intertwines his fingers with the frayed ends of the carpets. she’s afraid he’ll never want to leave
By Tanya on 08.29.2010
It was a beautiful loft. Always kind, generous, never drafty. It gave us our own little space to be together, to be just us. Forever under the stars, naked, vulnerable. Us. Together.
By Amanda on 08.29.2010
There was an empty loft in the middle of New York City that had to be furnished from IKEA and we went and we found these amazing sheets and matching pillows and a futon and we got all of it for under one hundred dollars and the loft looked something like a J. Crew. And it didn’t matter that the loft was really big because there was such beautiful furniture and everybody wanted to party there.
By michaelzc URL on 08.29.2010
he wanted to be an astronaut. it was a lofty achievement. day in and day out, he was mocked all of his life. but when he stuck our flag into that unimaginable surface he knew his dreams had been fulfilled.
By speechlessmegan URL on 08.29.2010
it’s high and quiet. always warmer. Safe and tall. I was in a loft in Mammoth, it was nice. I shared it with my sister, and cousin. We were secluded from everyone, we had secrets.
By Cheantay on 08.29.2010
i own a loft in ny city. i love it. it is the shit. i smoke weed and create. i write i paint i draw. i love. i live the life i want to live in my loft. and it is good.
By rebma on 08.29.2010
Being in the loft always immediately brought his mind to Laura Croft: Tomb Raider. Well, to be fair, a lot of things immediately brought her to his mind.
By Alexis on 08.29.2010
Quiet, secluded, it’s a haven. Warmer than most places, and often quieter. You look down upon people, spying, in a sense. A childs playground, a teenagers seclusion.
By Cheantay URL on 08.29.2010
it was a bedroom there laying on the skies it fell above where the doves flew above us. So siliently so swiftly there goes another heartbeat of mines. As the loft fell quickly to the floor I went there and that is where my eyes woke up to the sun.
By Laurice Dineen URL on 08.29.2010
Hay. Lofts are full of hay, and hay always smells sweet in books. And they always have a big rope swing. I remember reading about a loft with a swing in Charlotte’s Web, and imagining so many lofts, that for a moment, I thought it was a real memory, instead of just a thought about a loft.
By wobster109 URL on 08.29.2010
The wind blew heavily as she sat down at her messy desk. Crumpled bits of paper flew everywhere as she grabbed her chewed-down pen and hastily began to scrawl on the smooth surface of her palm.
By Kylie on 08.29.2010
My retreat is a small loft on the eastern edge of the lake. A spiral staircase leads up to the top where I’m greeted by a touch of home in simple elegance perfect for a weekend getaway. Vines line the ceiling with white lights, while candlelight aromas fill the air and I’m taken away into the quiet stillness of it all.
By Christine on 08.29.2010
Loft is a place that could be a home.
Loft is a fagg.
Loft sounds funny.
Lofts is an amazing place darling.
Lofty.
Bigggggggg.
Smaaalll?
By neriah nunez on 08.29.2010
She was laying on her bed. She fidgeted with her keys in her hands and looked up at me to ask what I was thinking. I told her I had nothing on my mind. Her ceilings were low and her eyes were wide and beginning to well.
By eugene on 08.29.2010
I saw the man in the loft. He was grizzled and old, his hair matted and shaggy, hanging about his shoulders. He smiled at me, though his teeth were yellow. HIs eyes blazed into mine as I watched him. Nothing could have been as demented as this twisted mockery of a grin.
By David on 08.29.2010
In the loft was the bed, and in the bed was my old, dusty teddy bear. I hadn’t seen her in years, and I hugged her to me, only to have her stuffing drift down over the edge of the loft onto the dusty floor below. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
By Kathy on 08.30.2010
I saw the man in the loft. His hair was matted and his eyes flew throughout the room as he entered. THey fixed on me. His grimace told me his whole story. Nothing about this man was normal. He had never known love or friendship, and least of all, he never knew himself.
By David URL on 08.30.2010
If I had known it would be so cramped, I would of pursued a different stead. I found myself pacing about and realizing I’m finally in a new place. It was a small stead, but it was were I would be sleeping and creating for the next 4 years. But it’s what I wanted anyways; a small, minimalistic stead for my creative endeavors and citylife pursuits. My life was advancing and slowing down at the same time. What was next?
By Kammy URL on 08.30.2010
college dorm life. All guys house. loft bunk beds. empty apartments. space above another space… party.
By chelsea on 08.30.2010
they lay together in the loft above the hay. he looked down at her as the dust settled, watching her through the rays of the morning light. she was more beautiful now than she ever was before. she was his love and he was hers. nothing could wrong between them
By Marvin on 08.30.2010
I can’t think of anything. It is sad. My mind is blank and empty. If only I was creative to write about loft. Hmm…what has the world come to?
By Amanda on 08.30.2010
a pace to go where everyone around doesn’t know you… a place hide a place to get away…peaceful maybe?
By kayla URL on 08.30.2010
The loft was so high, so unattainable. It had a kind of mysterious beauty you only find in things you truly love, in things you are really afraid of losing. I wanted to know more. I had so many memories here, but this was not enough for me. I wanted to know everything there was to know. Impossible.
By halelips on 08.30.2010
he traveled up the stairs to the loft, to find what there was to find. so many memories and things forgotten. now what?
By Trevor on 08.30.2010
love undivided attention
By io on 08.30.2010
I wish I lived in a loft in downtown Chicago. One with a bedroom that had exposed brick on the walls. Then I could invite women over and press their backs against the cold brick as I ravished them. Windows from floor to ceiling would be nice as well, and then the whole city would be privy to my exploits.
By Sizzlechest McGee on 08.30.2010
i want my own loft. a place all to myself. decorated with orange walls, plants, and white lamps. a clear bright place to live a clear and bright life.
By clareelise URL on 08.30.2010
such goals
i made little beds for them
up in the unfinished attic
where there may not have been
anything but light
now i unpack them
peel away the paper
they are still so fresh
By alita dot org URL on 08.30.2010
•A loft can be an upper storey or attic or basement in a building, directly under the roof.
By Gab on 08.30.2010
A place of retreat. Positive isolation, need for solitude. A moment of reflection, a time to connect. No responsibilities, escape – freedom.
By halelips URL on 08.30.2010
et sted oppunder taket. mørkt, klamt, men likevel luftig. spindelvev, støv i hjørnene. en gammel kiste midt på gulvet.
By Vidar on 08.30.2010
Sitting so high and looking out down low
With your attitude put on, but just for show
By Robert URL on 08.30.2010
Sifting through my boxes – which usually hate doing – I actually felt light at heart. I looked around my new apartment and I was thrilled! I love a small, simple space. I like being able to set it up and have the only walls be made of organizational changes. Who needs a one bedroom or two bedrooms place?
By G Parks URL on 08.30.2010
I was bent over my worktable, in my loft, where it was quite secluded, when I heard the sound. The front door closing softly, muted as if someone were trying to make the sound unnoticeable. I didn’t know who it could be. I lived alone.
By Coral URL on 08.30.2010
..as i sat in the loft of the b&b looking at the vancouver skyline,i realized just how much of my life i had wasted bemoaning you.from now on,when i think of you,i will set the thought free,and be free of you
By 2 B Named Later URL on 08.30.2010
We discovered him in the loft. After searching all day, he was simply sleeping; oblivious to our frantic state.
By m.k.m. URL on 08.30.2010
I have no idea what a loft really means. It could be a piece of bread or the place people live in cities. What would be the difference between a loft and an apartment? and why would you call a bread piece loft?
By Johnson on 08.30.2010
I slowly climb the stairs to the tiny loft above the garage. I take in a deep breath of the sweet, musty air, thick and warm from the summer heat. I see you standing in the middle of the room. Your lopsided smile makes me weak and my heart skips a beat.
By SalsaMelissa URL on 08.30.2010
“There’s a loft where I’d always hide when my parents used to fight. Like it protected me from the danger of the world.” The kid chuckled, “That was a lie.”
By Glenn Winfrey URL on 08.30.2010